


For Better or For Worse

by QueenBoo



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Angst, Banter, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Howard gets into trouble, Humour, M/M, Romance, Zooniverse, and Vince obviously saves him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28069203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBoo/pseuds/QueenBoo
Summary: When Mr Gideon finds out what kind of man Howard is, he encourages his wife to quit and threatens the Zoo with a lawsuit. Furious, Fossil gives Howard seven days to fix his mistake and get Gideon back. Moon is resigned to his fate but Vince? Vince might just have an idea.
Relationships: Howard Moon/Vince Noir
Comments: 37
Kudos: 29
Collections: Boosh Secret Santa 2020!





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [isindismay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isindismay/gifts).



> Happy Booshlr Secret Santa! 
> 
> This fic was so much fun to write, honestly I adore writing the Zooniverse boys and getting to play with their characters like this way a treat. Hope you enjoy :D

It starts on a Sunday, a day Vince is accustomed to being rather uneventful. 

Porpoise races never took place on a Sunday, even the aquatic mammals deserved a day off from having to swim back and forth in their ridiculously large pool. The keepers didn’t even bother with most of their duties, either, because the vast majority of the limited staff were operating on half-battery life. Their already sparse customer base was nowhere to be found on this, the last day of the week. Typically, Sunday was Vince’s day to hang out with the porcupines while they tried to teach him how to play poker, before retiring early to an evening with Howard and a few records. 

What he’s not expecting is early on this Sunday Morning, before he’s even turned his hair straighteners on, is for Howard to come crashing through the keepers hut doors--eyes wide and panicked--uttering hushed exclamations of  _ ‘I’m not here, you didn’t see me, I’m not here’ _ and then literally climbing into their wardrobe. 

Vince has no time to ask exactly what Howard is running from, because within seconds of Howard disappearing, Fossil comes screeching through the door. “MOON, Moon I’m gonna- oh. Hi Vince.” 

It’s a pathetic little wave Vince gives, still half encased in his sleeping bag and hair stuck up in all directions. It's been less than twenty minutes since he was forced into the realm of the awake; and there is many things he was more prepared for right now than facing their red-faced manager. He is gonna kill Howard for leading Fossil here before he was ready for the day--no one but Howard was supposed to see him like this--because seeing Vince before he's dressed is the equivalent of seeing him completely nude.

“Morning, Mr Fossil.” He mutters weakly. “Can I help you with somethin’?” 

It’s amazing the calming effect Vince has on the mad American. Howard had always been quite vocally baffled by it; often wondering aloud why their manager never held any disdain for the younger of the two keepers. Even now his yelling dials back, he’s left just sort of smiling down at Vince as he says. “Oh, no. Not really, I was looking for Moon and I thought I saw him come in here.” 

Vince plays his role perfectly. “No, not in here, sir. Just me… getting ready for the day.” 

At once Fossil takes the hint. “Oh! Sorry Vince. Wouldn’t wanna impose or nothing--hey, swing by the office later I think I got some good news for you.”  This is almost certainly not true. Unfortunately their managers shine to him sometimes extends into the inappropriate, and last time this happened he had to give him a harsh word or two to prevent some unwanted groping. Still, he smiles and nods politely along because it will be the only thing the man wants to hear. “Oh and if you do see Moon, tell him he’s got seven days.” 

It makes zero sense, again, Vince is simply left nodding along. 

Fossil departs, and Vince scurries from his sleeping bag in order to rush over to their wardrobe and deliver it a hefty kick. The muffled ‘ow’ from inside only pleases him a little.  “What was all that about, you prick!” 

“He was gonna kill me.” Is the dulled response the cupboard gives. 

“And I should have let him.” Vince yanks the wardrobe door open to reveal the hunched shape of the man. He’s covered in clothes from his hasty retreat into the cupboard. There’s a blouse caught over his head. A scarf over his shoulder. He’s stood amongst the shoes. “What’ve you done now? Was it the bush dogs again-- have they complained?” 

Howard's remorseful expression only serves to inspire further suspicion in Vince. Nothing good can come from Howard actually acknowledging his guilt, “No it’s--hang on. Why do you always assume it’s the bush dogs?” 

“Well just after last time…” Vince doesn’t need to elaborate any further. He makes a gesture with his hand that forces the older man to flush a deep pink colour. 

“We don’t need to be bringing up the bush dogs.” Howard starts hastily removing the stuck items of clothing from his person. Anything to avoid eye contact with a snickering Vince, it seems. 

“”I’m not bringin ‘em up I was just asking if they’ve complained again.” 

“Again? They never complained the first time.” 

“Nearly did.” Vince reaches out to snag his fingers in the fabric of Howard’s Zooniverse jacket and pulls him from the wardrobe. Gently urges him away and assists by plucking any lingering bits of fabric from him. “But I talked them out of it didn’t I?”

“It was just a misunderstanding anyway.” Howard insists, puffs his chest out in a false sense of grandeur. 

Rolling his eyes Vince reaches into the wardrobe for his clothes for the day. “Howard they found you in their enclosure in just your pants.” 

“A misunderstanding.” The man insists harder. Vince smirks at him, pulling his clothes on one item at a time as they talk. “Anyway, we’re getting off topic. It wasn’t the bush dogs.” 

“Then what?” He seemed pretty mad.” Moving past Howard to grab his own green jacket, he lands by the mirror. As is typical for his work look, the collar of the garment is flicked up and careful fingers brush his hair into place. “I haven’t seen him that angry since you lost him five grand on the porpoise race.”

Howard actually shifts in demeanour. He starts to look ashen. He's worried. Guilty isn't really the word anymore, he's positively distressed. He looks a lot like how he used to when they were kids and grown-ups (mainly Howard's own parents) would ask him why he didn’t really have any friends. Self-hating and vulnerable. It was a look like that which usually forced Vince to step in with any given problem the older man had. Because Howard, while functionally a coward and an anxious mess, was not really suited for vulnerability. He was headstrong and forward; a man of action. 

Vince thinks, ‘ _ God, what have you done’  _ and, ‘ _ I’ll fix this’ _ in unison. 

This time the question comes a little firmer. A demand, not a request. “Howard, what did you do?” 

“Mrs Gideon’s gone home.” 

“Oh.” Relief floods his veins. “Well that’s not that bad. Annoying I guess, cause we’ll have to do the reptiles today.” 

“Vince--” 

“But not the end of the world, is it?” Vince barrels on, his brief solace in the fact Howard’s guilt was misplaced overtaking him quicker than the culprit himself can explain. “I mean, remember back in the day when it was just you, me, Joey Moose and Graham? We hardly got anything done but it wasn’t--” 

“Vince.” Howard cuts in sharply. It almost makes Vince flinch with it’s snapped delivery. “She hasn’t gone home today. She’s gone. For good. Mrs Gideon quit this morning…. And it might have been a little bit my fault.” 

Which. Okay. That is a little bit bad but still, not completely terrible. They’ve definitely dealt with worse. “So… what Fossil shouted at you?”  Howard nods his head.  “Because Gideon quit.” 

Howard once again nods his head. Though this time the action is jarring and stilted. There’s more to the tale, Vince can see it in the pinched expression the older keeper wears. His eyes bunched as if in physical pain from emitting something obvious from the tale. Howard was the kind of liar who would be swallowed up by shame for lying before the falsehood even hit the air--so you can imagine how he shifts with his guilt presently. Vince doesn’t press, if you push too hard with Howard he gets defensive, he simply waits. Like an expectant mother, complete with the arms folded over his chest and one socked foot tapping against the floor with his impatience. 

Approximately ninety seconds of this look, and Howard cracks. He likes to boast he is a man of action but in the face of Vince’s disappointment he was a spooked infant. “Well, that and… her husband--”

“Gideon’s married?” 

“That is sort of the point of Mrs being someone’s title, Vince.” 

“Well I always thought it was more of a stage name you know, a character thing.” Vince blinks at Howard, like always, expecting him to be the voice of reason. Most of their young lives had been conducted in a manner just like this; Vince learning something and turning to Howard to confirm it. “Like when teachers use it at school.” 

Howard just blinks right back at him, as if he is endlessly surprised by Vince's ability to be dense. “You realise the teachers were only called Mrs when they, too, were married.” 

Vince did not. He thought it was just a thing people said like Dr or Lady. Howard spends a moment more squinting at him, almost in  _ awe _ and then the conversation is being shaken away with the side to side motion of his curly head. “Regardless, that doesn’t matter. Her husband complained, apparently she had been telling him about my… interest.” 

“Stalking.” 

“Interest.” Howard repeats, this time his finger makes an appearance, pointing sternly at Vince. Ensuring he won't mix those two words up again. "He barged in this morning making all kinds of threats about going to the papers and taking us to court and... You know it’s all just a misunderstanding.”

“So how do we fix it?”

“I need to get her back or I lose our jobs.” 

“Hang on," Vince stalls where he had been shoving his feet into his favourite cowboy boots. " _ Our  _ jobs?” 

“Well, I mean I had assumed if I went you’d go too.” Which is both true and not true. False in that Fossil would never sack him. But true in that, Vince would never let Howard leave him behind. 

Vince delivers what he hopes is his best 'stern' glare. “Guess we better come up with a plan then, hadn’t we?” 

♡♡♡♡

Indicating they should come up with a plan and actually formulating one are two different things in the world of Howard and Vince.

And it had everything to do with their clashing ideology on what actually constituted a deadline. Not only that, but each of their individual opinions dictated what they believed a 'good plan' was. The resulting bickering would set them back more time than usually made it worth it. 

For example, Fossil had given them seven days; to Vince this is heaps of time. He'd pulled together more elaborate plots, with stakes considerably higher than this, on a much shorter timescale before. Seven days was a  _ dream _ . So of course, while he is the one to say they should come up with a plan, he also just carries on with his day. Something would come to him, there’d be no point in just hanging about until it did. 

Howard was not of the same opinion. 

“You don’t seem at all concerned about our plight.” The older man snaps, almost two hours after the initial delivery of bad news. Vince is sat cross legged on the floor of the Zoo’s barn, a bundle of hay in his hands and two Llama crias munching happily from his offering. 

If he was being perfectly honest, Howard was rather killing the mood. “I am concerned! I jus’ reckon that if we sit about trying to force ourselves to have a plan it ain’t gonna be any good is it?” He turns his head, notes the way Howard’s expression shutters over into cold indifference the second Vince makes eye contact. HE sadly, does not catch whatever it was before Vince had caught him in the act of staring. “What’s that phrase? Good plans come to people who wait for them.” 

“That’s not the saying and you know it.” 

Vince only grins at him. Howard hovers in the doorway a moment more, his hip cocked against the frame of the door, and then he seems to realise he’s fighting a losing battle. Though really, when has that ever stopped Howard? 

“It can’t hurt for us to  _ try  _ to come up with something.” The older man says. He pushes himself from the wall, saunters over to stand beside where Vince sits and kicks idly at some abandoned hay. The crias are pretty unhappy about this development, they gurgle some choice insults that they are much too young to say but make Vince laugh anyway. 

“Alright then, if you’re going to whine about it.” Vince sighs, though it’s mostly put upon. Realistically, Howard was a panicker, and Vince was not. This kind of clash of personalities was commonplace for them. Howard at least seems pleased Vince is willing to try and come up with ideas. “Why don’t you just offer her your wage?” 

The pleased look drops from Howard’s face at once, overcome as he is instead with what looks like pure exasperation. 

Vince has to bite his lip to keep from snickering. “What?” He asks with as much manufactured innocence as he dares. “It’s a valid suggestion. Who wouldn’t want a pay rise?” 

“It’s valid but it’s  _ stupid.”  _ Howard looks physically pained as he exclaims it. “Because then I’d have no money.” 

And while this whole suggestion was intended to teach Howard a lesson in not rushing Vince’s idea-making process, Vince does stumble at that hurdle. He finds himself genuinely questioning Howard’s reasoning for turning down this plot. Mostly because, well, despite giving all of your wage to someone else and therefore not having any money left for yourself being a bit annoying--it wasn’t a deal-breaker for someone like Vince. 

Vince was endlessly optimistic. Enough that he counters Howard’s disdain by shrugging off his concern, “Then you’d just share mine.” 

Simple. 

If you thought about it, leading the lives they did wasn’t an expensive existence. They didn’t pay rent, not living on site in the hut as they did. Bills weren’t an issue, beyond keeping credit on their mobiles and occasionally shelling out on proper food that wasn’t pot noodles and hula hoops, their expenses were non-existent. To be honest, most of Vince’s outgoings were on records and clothes. 

He would cut back on how many accessories he bought if it meant they got to stay together. 

Howard still snaps, “I’m not a kept man, Vince.” 

At least _that_ he can accept as a reasonable excuse why they should not go through with this particular venture. Because Howard was too proud. In admitting that, the older man is soothing Vince’s ruffled feathers over whether or not Howard believes Vince would support him (because he would, without question) and instead reminding Vince that it is entirely a  _ Howard Moon  _ issue. 

“Well then you’re going to have to give me a bit more time to come up with anything  _ not  _ stupid. If that’s how high you’re setting the bar.” Vince turns back to the crias, one of which settling one the floor beside him and laying its head in his lap. “I’m preoccupied right now.” 

Which is not a lie. Vince had been trying to prove a point after all, you don’t rush the best plans. 

Howard still sulks out of the barn with a mutter of, “I suppose I better go and do the job I’m about to lose then, hadn't I?” 

The llamas watch him go, scowling as much as it’s possible for a llama to scowl. 

♡♡♡♡

Eventually, Vince had sought out his friend. It was amazing how a few hours to get on with his usual tasks had allowed for his brain pan to cook up some delicious ideas. 

And now he was ready to share some with Howard. 

Being that it is lunchtime when this urge to share strikes him--and the fact Howard is as predictable as the alphabet song--Vince knows exactly where he’s going to have to go in order to find his lankier half. 

Living up to all of Vince’s expectations, Howard is picking half-heartedly at a baguette at his favourite spot in the whole zoo. It's a bench nestled intimately in among some of the avian enclosures. To Howard's right, there's a pair of Great Grey Owls watching him suspiciously as he eats. But, directly opposite, is the Rainbow Lorikeets. The smaller, more excitable birds twitter and screech energetically at the presence of a person (even Howard) and he appears to be watching them with a rather sad smile. 

It’s perhaps one of the very few things that Vince doesn’t know for certain about Howard; why he likes this particular spot so much. Even when he'd asked he was shrugged off with a half-truth about Owls being 'deeply wise creatures'. 

Still. Vince is pleased to have found him, and he shows as much by gently calling, "There you are, Howard!" 

The older man startles a fraction, peers up at Vince with mild annoyance for his sudden arrival. "I thought you'd be off waiting for plans to form." He snaps. 

Vince shrugs one shoulder, a warm grin plastered on his features. It's easy to slide into the empty space by Howard's side. They don't speak immediately, Howard is narrowing his eyes, trying to figure out just what it is that Vince is up to, and Vince is keeping a close eye on those Lorikeets instead. 

They're all squealing  _ 'come here, come over here'  _ repeatedly. Needy little birds, they were. 

"What if," Vince starts, and Howard perks by his side like an eager Labrador that has spotted its treats. "We convince them that you have been sacked, and just give you a make-over so no one notices?"

All the excitement drops from Howard faster than a boulder off a cliff edge. "I don't think that will work."

Affronted, Vince straightens his back and sets his shoulders with his insistence. "It could work!" He cries. With gentle hands he reaches out to pluck at Howard's curls, and is amazed that the man doesn't flinch away from him like he normally might, just observes him with interest. "I'm well good at making looks, we can dye your hair and get you some new clothes, a couple of accessories--no one would know!" 

"Vince, no." It's firm, definitive, Vince actually sags where he sits. 

"Fine." He huffs. Resorts back to silence as he thinks. 

The Lorikeets continue to screech. In the distance, Vince can hear the clip of hooves in concrete. Can smell the faint scent of sawdust. There are no customers, not today, but still, he feels the presence of them like ghosts strutting through walls and leaving a chill down his spine. The essence of life at the Zoo, surrounding him. Reminding him how little he wants to leave. 

And how little he'd want to be here without Howard, solid and reliable beside him. 

"Well what about me then?" Vince asks roughly ten minutes later. Howard isn't even trying to pretend to eat anymore, he's watching the multicoloured birds opposite. 

"Hmm?" 

"Maybe I dress up." It certainly wouldn't be that hard to pull off, arguably easier than trying to get Howard dressed up. "We tell Fossil Gideon is back and I just dress like her. Can't be too hard to do her jobs, can it?" 

A pause, Howard seemingly genuinely considering this as an option, and then, "But you don't get on with snakes."

It says a lot that with all of the reasons Howard could have found to not go through with this plot--this is the one he had landed on. The fact that Vince, quite vocally, does not get on with serpents. He never has. 

Something warm pools low in his stomach--not just something, _affection_. His chest tightens, he’s got helium in his veins because he feels just that little bit lighter. Vince is almost certain, if he could see himself, he would be glowing. It’s probably quite shameful really, that after all these years he still turns to putty whenever Howard demonstrates his ability to care about him. 

The man was a grumpy prick and a bit of an arse but let it never be said he didn't appreciate Vince in his own little way.

“Shame,” Vince rasps, he pretends he doesn’t hear the wavering in his tone even as Howard’s brows bunch together. “I would have looked pretty brilliant in a skirt.” 

“No one said you wouldn’t.” Howard agrees. Vince thinks he’s going to pass out how lightheaded that makes him. “I just don’t think it’s fair on the snakes, I’ve had to stop too many fights in the reptile house as it is.” 

“They’re all pricks, Howard.” 

They share a snicker. Howard looking, for the first time since being delivered his ultimatum, somewhat content. Vince watches the wolfish curl of his features with a satisfied smile. He did that. 

“Maybe I should just accept my fate.” The older man sighs. 

Vince feels his whole mood drop, like going over the crest of a rollercoaster but there's no adrenaline rush to accompany the fall. Only dread. The pleasant buzz of happiness in his stomach is smothered under a lead weight of it. "You're giving up already?" 

"Vince, we've already wasted a whole day trying to come up with something to do. Why waste six more?" 

And he knew Howard was a pessimist, it was the whole point of their double act really, they were yin and yang. Howard the dark and Vince the light. But this was defeatist even for him, to just say _‘let’s not try anymore’_. Vince has to worry what is really bugging him about the whole situation, the not having a plan yet or maybe the fact that he had been rejected for perhaps the final time by a woman he idolised.  Most likely, it’s Howard sinking into deeper oceans of self-loathing than Vince has any desire to swim through. 

But he has to, because if no one pulled Howard from it, then he would drown. 

"There's got to be a way, Mrs Gideon loved her job, she'll come back for sure if we find the right way to convince her." Vince says hopefully. He shuffles himself further into Howard’s side on the bench, no longer just brushing shoulders with him but pressing. As if he can impress the hope into him by touch. 

Howard sighs tiredly, he doesn’t even bother to flinch from the contact. "It's not just her though is it?" 

"What isn’t?" 

“What’s stopping her from coming back to work, it’s not just her.” Vince blinks in confusion, Howard rolls his eyes at him--which he’s only a little annoyed about--and explains, "Her husband probably won't let her set foot in this place until he knows I'm not a threat anymore." 

Oh yes. That problem.  _ Mr  _ Gideon. Vince wrinkles his features in clear disgust. “Who does he think he is anyway?” He snaps in annoyance. “Telling his wife where she can and can’t work, bit old fashioned innit?” 

“I think it's sweet." Howard sounds entirely wistful, gazing off into the distance--at the lorikeets--as he talks. "Must be nice to be married to someone and knowing they will look out for you like that."

This is what a lightbulb moment must feel like for most people. A spark of an idea. A fire lit beneath his feet. It’s the return of that tingling feeling but instead of tingling it’s the static of an electric shock all the way up his spine; he feels a bubble of surprised laughter spill from his mouth before he’s even given it permission to do so--Howard just frowns at him for it--and his eager hands are reaching out to grasp at whatever part of Howard he can reach. 

Vince had automatically wanted to comfort. To say,  _ ‘You mean like how I look out for you,’ _ but the words had died in his throat to be replaced with excited gasping because rather than comfort Vince can offer an  _ idea.  _

"That's it! Howard I've got it." He cries. “I know how we get Gideon back!" 

The energy Vince is displaying must pass to Howard somehow, the man is suddenly alive. His eyes wide and aware, his features confused but lit up with the attention he’s paying. “What, how?" 

"We need to get married."


	2. Two

To say Howard is completely speechless in the face of Vince’s supposed plan would be an understatement. He goes completely thoughtless too. Motionless. Hell, breathless. Every part of his anatomy that is supposed to be operating simply… stops. Not an inch of his body is moving how it’s supposed to. It’s what computers must feel like when you turn them off, he thinks. Just empty space and nothingness. 

Vince is still just beaming at him, doe-eyed and innocent, high on the buzz of what he thinks is a fool proof plan. It’s all Howard can feel; his enthusiasm pressing against him, thick in the air, and the weight of his two dainty hands where they rest on his forearm. 

_ What kind of a suggestion is that?  _

The sheer hope radiating off his friend-- _ his best friend _ \--means Howard really hates to be the realist between them. He really does. Despite the fact his heart beats faster and his palms are laced with sweat… one of them should be rational between them. One of them  _ has  _ to be. If Howard didn’t keep them grounded then… well. Bad things would happen. Probably. 

“How on earth is that going to help us?” Howard snaps, though his tone is much less harsh than he initially intends for it to be. To his own ears he sounds more bemused. 

Thankfully, used to his scepticism, and his temper, Vince doesn’t bat an eyelash over the question--harsh tone or not--and simply beams up at him like a kid showing off their macaroni and glitter art project. It lingers for a moment before he jumps into an overly enthusiastic explanation. 

“Isn’t it obvious!” The weight of Vince’s hands leaves his arm, he’s waving them about as he talks. “It’s the perfect solution, we can convince Mr Gideon you’re harmless and not have to dress you up or dress me up or--you get to stay in your job and not change barely anything!”

“I’m still not following.” 

It’s not often Vince gets to be the one to look at Howard like he’s thick, but he does it then. Cocks his head to one side curiously and peers at him like he’s adorable if not slightly vexing. It’s how people used to look at Howard when he was nine and insisted that the moon could talk. 

“Howard,” Vince says slowly, like he’s explaining the plot to Howard as if he is in fact still nine. “The only way we can make the Gideon's believe you’re not a threat is to convince them you’re not interested in Mrs Gideon  _ like that _ …” 

And suddenly it clicks. 

_ No one’s going to think you’re in love with Gideon if they think you’re in love with me.  _

Which--as much as Howard is loathe to admit--isn’t the worst idea that Vince has had all day. But he can’t just say that can he? Of course not, what Vince is suggesting can’t possibly work. Can it? No. Not a chance in hell. 

“That’ll never work.” He says, tone distant. Mystified at Vince’s die hard optimism for his own plot. 

“Why not?” 

“Well firstly don’t you think people will think it suspicious that two  _ perfectly heterosexual  _ men suddenly decide to get married?” 

Awfully, hurt flashes over Vince’s features. Quick like a lightning strike. Howard can see the thoughts passing over his blue gaze like storm clouds over a sunny day as the younger man defiantly grumbles, “ _ One _ perfectly straight man.” and god-- Howard barely has any time to process what it is Vince has just admitted to him before he is moving on. As he is wont to do when the topic upset him. If it didn’t inspire joy then Vince will not discuss it. “Plus that’s easy. We don’t tell ‘em we’re  _ getting _ married… We tell ‘em we  _ are  _ married.” 

“What, you mean--” 

“That we’ve always been married.” Vince’s face is split with a grin, but it’s a little more hollow than it had been a confession previously. Howard desperately wants to circle back and adamantly reinforce that Vince’s sexuality shouldn’t be a sticking point. It has never and will never matter, who Vince loves. Howard just put his foot in his mouth as a hobby, he didn’t mean--Vince is still talking. “That way all your attention on Gideon has just been one big--” 

“Misunderstanding.” 

Okay, it might not be the most ideal of plans but it does rather take care of all of their problems in one fell swoop. And maybe they could stage a breakup some way down the line, leave him open to the dating scene once more. After this all blows over, of course. 

He’s distracted from Vince’s hurt long enough to refocus on the true goal of the day.

“But Vince there’s going to be questions, and…” Howard flails. He’s running out of reasons to say no to this. “Expectations, people will--” He cuts himself off with a frustrated grunt, unable to put his concerns into words. “How are we going to pull this off?” He asks after a beat. 

“You leave that to me!” Vince reaches out and snatches Howard’s uneaten lunch from his lap, and he’s up. Dashing across the zoo in the direction of the keepers hut without another word. 

♡♡♡♡

Howard doesn’t see Vince again until the following morning. 

Vaguely, he had been aware of the younger man creeping back into the keepers hut way past sun down last night. Much too late to be proper, and long after Howard had retired to bed for the night. But he hadn’t questioned it at the time. Vince had still been passed out--as is usual for him on any given day--as Howard had prepared for their shift at the Zooniverse this morning. The shape of him in the sleeping bag had not stirred once as Howard prepared animal food, showered, fed himself and then set off for the day. 

But none of that was unusual. 

Howard simply carries on his day as he normally would. He starts with his jazz trance and then moves on to distributing hay among the hoofed mammals. He’s halfway through refilling all the rodent water bottles when he catches sight of Vince across the courtyard which is… a bit unusual. Normally at this time of day the young man would be hanging off his arm enquiring all sorts of strange things but today he’s chatting to a Magpie, apparently. 

Howard pauses, wondering if this had anything to do with the plot they (Vince) had hatched the night before. Vince is giggling and chatting, his hands moving about in waves as he seems to tell an epic tale of some sort. The magpie chittering along in a language Howard can’t understand but Vince certainly can.  The bird crows, and Vince blushes prettily, peering up at the animal through his fringe. 

He’s glowing this morning, Howard notices. Properly glowing. There’s always been the fond reference to Vince being the sunshine child but this is the first time that he’s actually looked like the physical manifestation of a ray of sunshine. 

It suits him. 

Vince holds one dainty hand out, and the bird deposits something into his palm. Howard can’t quite see what it is, but whatever it may be, Vince peers down at it and beams openly. 

There is a clear, “Thanks,” offered to the corvid, and then the animal takes flight once more. 

Vince takes one last look at whatever he is cradling in his hand, and then he looks up to see Howard. Their eyes meet, Howard realises with some shame he has simply been stood watching the younger man like some tiny-eyed pervert, but Vince doesn’t seem to mind. He beams at him, the smile sending warm fuzzy feelings all through Howard's limbs. Howard waves, Vince waves back. 

The thing in Vince’s grip is quickly tucked into the pocket of his Zooniverse jacket and then the boy is skipping over to Howard’s side jovially. 

“Alright Howard?” He calls. 

“Didn’t think I’d see you this side of noon.” Howard says by way of greeting. “You didn’t get back until late last night.”  Vince just blinks at him, no explanation forthcoming.  Howard tries again, something of an expert in wrangling information from his younger best friend. “What kept you out so late?” 

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” Vince actually winks at him. And as if on cue, there comes a caw from the sky. The shape of the magpie has returned, and for whatever reason this is wonderful news to Vince. He’s backing away with a bounce to his step. “I’ll see you later yea?” 

And he’s gone again. 

Strange, Howard thinks, but he can’t seem to shift the grin off his face for the rest of the morning. 

♡♡♡♡

It isn’t until much later in the afternoon that they cross paths again. Throughout the day Howard will catch brief glimpses of Vince, here and there. Dashing from one area of the zoo to another with that bloody magpie hovering above his head, the shadow of it's flying form trailing behind wherever Vince goes. Or, the younger man will be pacing around the enclosures on his phone, chatting animatedly yet murmuring in low tones of secrecy. Once, Howard spots him emerging from Naboo’s little camel kiosk with a flush high on his cheeks. 

Howard had never been afforded any kind of attention, which normally wouldn’t bother him much but considering what they’d agreed to last night… well, it's irking him now. 

Even knowing what he's planning, Howard finds he’d like to be included somehow. Would it not behove them to make sure they both knew the score? There was a reason people say 'two minds are better than one'. A problem shared is a problem halved. Howard being left helplessly outside of this loop means he is not only feeling slightly put out (rejected) but he's also just plain confused. Especially as trying to figure out exactly how all this madness was going to end up in a marriage was killing him inside. What was Vince up to? 

It’s well after their shift has ended that Vince tumbles into the keepers hut once more. He’s out of breath, cheeks flushed pink from his excitement. Howard had planned on being cross with him, but finds he really can’t be with the picture he’s making right now. That fuzzy feeling is back. He feels like a bottle all shook up when he sees those sharp features tinged with such soft joy. 

“Alright?” Vince breathes, slots into the chair opposite Howard at their rickety table with ease. 

Luckily, Howard was his generation's next greatest actor, he could of course, fake that annoyance. Even if he was rather overcome with endearment right about now. “Oh good, you do remember you work here.” 

“Oh don’t start with that.” Vince rolls his eyes fondly. 

“I’m not starting anything.” Howard grumbles. “Just wondering aloud what could possibly be taking all your attention away from your job.” 

“Saving  _ your  _ job.” Vince bites back, cheeky smirk twisting on his features. He leans forward on the table, sharp elbows resting on the surface. “We can’t just jump into this can we? You said it yourself last night, people--the Gideon's--are gonna ask questions and look for giveaways. Gotta give ourselves an airtight story, yeah?”

Howard just frowns at him. “ _ That's _ what you’ve spent all day doing?”  And he may sound grumpy, but that's the only way he can think to disguise the lump in his throat. The way his voice might rasp in disbelief. 

They were really doing this. 

“Mhm.” Vince nods, but all of a sudden he comes over shy. It’s not often he gets like this either, Howard has only seen it in him once or twice. When he was younger and bashfully admitting he didn’t really understand his homework, could Howard help him. Or perhaps a bit older, trying to explain to Howard that he was still afraid of the dark because in it’s depths he can only see the glowing eyes of hyenas and hear the snick of claws on the forest floor. It’s that same kind of shyness overcoming him now as he mutters, “We’re all set but… well you never properly agreed so…” 

Vince trails off, and Howard blinks at him. Christ. He was waiting for Howard to say he actually wanted to do this. What would it look like if he said no? Would Vince understand, brush it off easily, would he say  _ ‘No problem ‘oward, I have another plan at the ready that will work just as well.’ _

Howard doesn’t want to find out. 

“Alright. I suppose we’re married.” He says, as confidently as he can manage. Vince’s whole face lights up like a Christmas tree. He actually wriggles in his seat with barely contained excitement, the thrilling energy he’s barely able to contain whenever he’s given exactly what he wanted. “You gonna tell me what it is you’ve been up to all day then?” Howard demands. 

At this, Vince kicks into action. He reaches a hand into his deceptively deep pockets, and produces a stack of photos and a folded square of paper. Howard goes for the paper first, unfolding it carefully and scanning his eyes over the intricately printed words to find--

“Vince this is a marriage certificate!” 

“Course.” There is literally heaps of misplaced pride etched on Vince’s face, the epitome of self-congratulation. “Had Leroy knock it up at the copy centre.” 

Christ, Leroy was involved too. He’d never live this down. “You told Leroy?” 

Vince doesn’t seem to see anything wrong with this--of course he doesn’t, embarrassment isn’t really in his vocabulary--he just nods his assent. “Well he owed me a favour or two and I thought, well if that Gideon bloke wants proof now we’ve got it. And a witness to boot, Leroy said he’d vouch for us.” 

Howard narrows his eyes, suspicious nature coming into play. “You convinced him to play false witness to our fake wedding?” 

“Yup.” 

“What exactly do you have on him?” Howard asks carefully, he’s unsure if he wants to know the answer to that, to be honest. If it gives Vince this much power it is surely not something Howard wants on his radar. 

“Wouldn't you like to know.” Vince smirks sinfully at him and that’s the nail in the coffin. Howard definitely  _ doesn’t  _ want to know. 

Instead of getting any further into that, Howard reaches for the stack of photos Vince had slapped down on the surface between them and begins to leaf through it. This time, he definitely doesn’t need the context. It’s quite obvious what Vince was going for here. He had rather expected that maybe he’d be laying his eyes on some horrifically edited pictures of him and Vince on a fake honeymoon except… well, Vince didn’t really have to do that did he? 

These are just photos of them throughout the years. On holidays; Howard looking unimpressed on the beach as Vince constructed sandcastles beside him. Photos of each other they had taken--Vince with a squirrel perched on his shoulder, Howard trying his best not to grin as he made eye contact with the lens. There's photo's Howard remembers his mother taking of them, Vince at sixteen asleep on Howard's shoulder in the back of the Moon family car, them as even younger children shoulder to shoulder on the garden wall and pointing at the clouds. Them just over a year ago, visiting the old family home and sat cross legged together on a picnic blanket. His mother had been insistent on a nice day out, and everyone knew you did not say no to Howard's mother. 

With this layer of context draped over the top, he can see how these would easily be viewed as something distinctly couple-y. 

He glances at Vince, many comments on his tongue, but he finds that Vince can’t--or won't--look at him. Howard may not understand exactly why Vince felt the need to print photos, as if Mr Gideon would ask to see them, but he thinks he knows why the younger man might have just wanted them around anyway. Even if they weren’t married, there was a lot to be said about their relationship. He wasn’t going to begrudge Vince some photos in the keepers hut if he wanted them. 

With that he moves on. 

“Okay, so that’s what we need then?” 

“Well, and these--” Vince digs in his other pocket, then offers his hand out. In the centre of his palm there's a ring. 

_ The magpie.  _

Shit, Vince really had gone all out on this lie. The boy doesn’t even say anything either. He just reaches across the table with a trembling hand that gives away his lack of confidence, and takes Howard’s left hand in his own. He holds it delicately, as if he’s expecting Howard to yank it away from him. He doesn’t though, too curious in his own right to see what Vince will do. 

Carefully, Vince slides the gold band onto Howard ring finger, and then retreats. 

Howard observes the ring. He turns his hand this way and that, wriggles his fingers, experiments with how it feels. It will take a little getting used to, he thinks, being that he’s not all that used to wearing jewellery. The metal catches the low light of the room as he moves his hand, and Howard wonders how Vince knew his size to get a comfortable fit as this. 

Out of his peripheral vision he sees Vince slipping a ring onto his own fingers, and peers over to see that rather than a gold band to match his, Vince is donning a silver ring--and it’s embellished with what Howard prays is fake diamonds. 

“What’s that!” Howard cries, and only a little of the outrage he conveys is real. Without even thinking he reaches over and takes Vince’s hand in his own, pulling it towards himself to properly examine the bejewelled ring. “That’s not a wedding ring.” 

“Maybe not  _ your  _ wedding ring.” Vince teases. “But it’s mine.” 

“Aren’t we supposed to match?” 

“Howard, we’ve never matched.” Vince points out fondly, his hand is still resting in Howard’s. “Why would we start now?” 

Vince raises a good point, actually. The whole foundation of Vince and Howard’s friendship had been their ability to be so startling different while being fundamentally the same. Outwardly, they would appear to be polar opposites, while inwardly, their personalities were actually mirror images. Vince might be childish and a bit naïve, but he was also unpredictably clever--just look at this plot he was pulling off. Howard might be a man of extensive literature and a fountain of knowledge, but… well his common sense was sometimes a little bit lacking. 

They may have passion for very different types of music and pastimes, but their passion burned at the same intensity, which is perhaps how they managed to overlook how vastly different they were in their tastes. Because really, they knew where the other was coming from. 

He’d been contemplating this in silence, still holding onto Vince’s hand, for so long that the younger man starts to explain without even prompting. “I just thought you’d appreciate the more traditional thing, yeah?” 

He’s right. “And of course, you’d balk at the thought of wearing anything ‘traditional’.” Howard supplies. 

Vince beams his agreement, something flutters in his chest like delicate butterfly wings. It’s at this point that he realises he is  _ still holding Vince’s hand.  _

“How did you afford these, anyway?” The look of sheer guilt that shutters over Vince’s face is enough of an answer for that. “Vince, do  _ not  _ tell me your little winged wonder  _ stole  _ these rings. Do not tell me that.” 

“It’s more like borrowing!” The little man exclaims, and, annoyingly, there’s no guilt on his features anymore. It’s all mirth. Cheeky shit. 

“Borrowing implies returning.” Howard points out firmly. “When exactly do you see us sending these back?” 

It’s the question to break the moment, because clearly, it’s exactly the thing that Vince doesn’t want to think about. The smile he’s wearing remains in place, to the untrained eye nothing changes. But Howard knows better, he sees the darkening of his gaze. Witnesses the curtains falling on this performance of unbridled joy. Howard’s killed it.  Frankly, the thought of  _ why  _ Vince seemed so saddened to have this charade come to an end doesn’t cross his mind, all Howard knows is he wants to banish that sadness as fast as humanly possible and he knows there’s one sure fire way to do it. 

“Right then.” He clears his throat. “Well, we have all the proof, where do we go from here?” 

“Next we need the story.” Vince almost certainly knows what Howard is doing, the smirk he wears is hollow. The younger man draws his hand back from Howard’s hold as carefully as he can and makes for the worn leather sofa. Howard watches on, he swallows thickly. 

Right. The story. 

♡♡♡♡

“No way I'm Letting you tell people that!” Vince cries.

“It’s romantic.” 

“Is it balls,” Vince wrinkles his nose in utter distaste of what he’s just heard. After their evidence haul, they had briefly parted for the younger man to shed himself of his uniform and shower while Howard had cobbled together a meal for them. 

There was not much room in the tiny keepers hut they called home, but it was enough space for Howard to keep the nourished with decent meals. They had eaten together at the table, talked about anything  _ other  _ than this plot--about how the polar bears were in-fighting, and their most regular guest, a man named Meringue, had tried to smuggle out a penguin again--until their bellies were full and they themselves were content. 

Now they sit together on the worn leather sofa. Howard is slumped on one side, a mug of tea in his hands, while Vince is reclined, his feet--and if anyone asks it’s begrudgingly--in Howard’s lap, they’d been arguing over the story of their proposal fondly for around an hour at this juncture. 

Initially, Howard had insisted all that part of the lie be left to Vince. After all, between them, the younger man was the only one to have actually had experience in relationships (not that Howard would ever admit that out loud). Not only that but the kid’s talent for storytelling meant there was surely no way he’d go wrong fabricating an engagement and marriage for the pair of them. 

But of course, Vince had quite logically pointed out that Howard needed to be able to remember the story, and so he should help. Which was closely followed by Howards pessimistic inner voice informing him that he might not get a real engagement ever so he might as well take part in this one. 

Which had led them here. 

“I’d love to be proposed to with jazz playing in the background.” Howard continues to pout about the rejection of  _ another _ one of his ideas. 

“I’m sure you would, you beige freak, but  _ I _ wouldn’t.” Vince looks to be on the verge of pouting back. “I’m not standing for that.” 

“Actually, now you mention it,” Howard sits a little straighter, he’s getting ready to argue a point and Vince is watching him with amusement. “Why am I doing the proposing?” 

The response he gets from Vince is a simple raising of the eyebrow, as if the answer to that question should be obvious. Which it is. See; Howard’s man of action persona would likely allow for nothing less than for him to do the proposing. And Vince was fine with that, encouraging it even. 

“Alright then,” It is agreed with a sigh. “How did I propose?” 

Howard might be enjoying this discussion more than he rightly should be. Vince, for what it’s worth, is also in his element. When they aren’t verbally sparring over the specifics of this romantic rendezvous, then they are vehemently agreeing. It’s been an exercise in how well they know one another, and to be honest, it’s rather humbling.  Howard finds himself smug over just how much detail he has retained about his long-suffering friend. And it’s not exactly unflattering to realise just how much Vince knows about him in return either. 

It’s actually pretty complimentary. And wholly unexpected. 

“Well I think you’d want to make a gesture but keep it subtle, you know?” Vince is presenting the question as if he is unsure he is hitting the mark but he needn’t. Howard does know what he means, nods along in encouragement. “You’d take me somewhere nice, maybe somewhere we had history--” 

“Like Reagents Park?” Howard suggests, and Vince eyes sparkle at him with something he doesn’t understand. “We met there, when I was on my way home from school. And you still like going there all the time, don’t you?” 

“Yeah.” Vince says quietly, he’s smiling almost shyly. “Yeah, that works.” 

“Well then we’d go there,” Howard looks away as he thinks. Locks his eyes onto the far wall and contemplates how Vince might like to spend his engagement day. “I’d keep you busy most of the day so you didn’t suspect. Let you feed the ducks, sit in the sun, argue with the swans--” 

“That was one time!” Vince interrupts, “And he was a right piece of work!” 

“Yes Vince, myself and the whole park heard you calling him exactly that.” Howard rolls his eyes, reaches down to give Vince’s shin a reprimanding squeeze. “Now stop interrupting me.”  Vince sighs, put out at being told off, but he obeys. He makes a motion of zipping his lips shut, locking it, and tossing away the key. At which point he settles and Howard--still holding onto his shin gently--continues his tale.  “I’d probably wait until the sun started to set, that’s quite romantic in a way even you can appreciate. Then I’d take you to our favourite part of the park,” 

“The Botanical Gardens?” Vince’s voice is hoarse, whispering. Like he’s afraid of shattering the moment. 

Howard shoots him a look but doesn’t bother reprimanding him this time. “Yes. Right by the poppies. We’d sit on the fountain--” Vince is on the edge of his seat, breath held tightly in his thin chest. His blue eyes wide and awe-filled. They look a little misty. “And then I’d propose there. With the sunset in the background, sat on the lip of the fountain, that’s where I’d do it.” 

Vince is just blinking at him. No words. And Howard is so used to equating Vince’s silence with the negative that he automatically assumes he has done something wrong; that he in some way messed this up. Of course, why would he think he was capable of coming up with a decent proposal? 

He opens his mouth to apologise but Vince beats him to it, “That’s perfect.” Vince breathes. “It’s… sweet and meaningful… I love it.” 

Howard can breathe a sigh of relief. 

“That’s how it happened,” Vince declares sternly. “When people ask, that’s what we tell them.” 

Howard nods his agreement, and he again, goes to interject with more but Vince is suddenly a flurry of sound and movement. He jerks his feet from Howard’s lap and leaps to his feet. “Anyway!” He calls, his voice thick. “I need to-- I told Leroy I’d call him, still some things to sort so, maybe… We can--” 

“Vince, it’s fine.” Howard comforts. Vince’s pink cheeks and wet eyes don’t add up to anything good. “We can talk about the rest later.” 

Vince gives a nod and then he’s backing from the room. 

As he turns to leave, Howard thinks he hears a sniffle.


	3. Three

Having already taken two days out of their ridiculously tight schedule to argue over the finer details of their plot, it means that waking up on the third day the both of them are in wildly different mindsets. 

They had concluded their storytelling late the night previously. Once they had decided on their engagement alibi Vince needed a moment to breathe. 

Who wouldn’t, after the things Howard had said to him? 

Really it hadn’t even been the things he’d said, but rather how he’d said them. Vince was not naïve enough to think this was some perfect love story that would end the way he might want it to, but he couldn’t help but hope. Just a little bit. And the way Howard had described a pretty perfect engagement to him as if it was something he thought about every other day? Vince had needed to not only breathe but to do it as far away from the keepers hut as possible. 

As far away from Howard as possible. 

Pretty pathetic really, faking a marriage with someone you’ve been in love with since you were eight years old just so you could feel loved in return. Most people would laugh. Vince was almost certainly laughing at himself, and look, he hadn’t come up with this idea just to satiate his own piteous need for returned affection. He genuinely had thought this would be a good way to save their jobs. 

It just so happened to be a bonus that he could relieve some of the ache in his chest every time he looked at his best friend. If anything, it was saving himself from suffocating under the weight of his own adoration. 

So he’d wandered the zoo for half an hour, each step giving him time to pull his charade of strength back in place. When he’d returned. He’d instructed Howard they needed to decide  _ when  _ and  _ how  _ they had gotten married. 

Startlingly easy was the agreement that Vince and Howard’s wedding would be an intimate if not slightly extravagant affair. Vince dressed to the nines (and ensuring Howard was too) but the only guests would be the close friends and family that the pair boasted. The kind of thing Vince, who had always adored the idea of a close-knit family group, would allow just to spare his fiancé the horror of enduring a big party with hundreds of guests. 

Up until that point, it had been mostly an agreeable process. They had stated without a doubt they wouldn’t have a church wedding, Howard shudders at the thought of them thanks to his mother being faintly religious during his upbringing, and instead would choose somewhere that suited them better. A park or a garden. Vince decided he’d have been wearing a flower crown to match the flowers pinned to Howard’s lapels. Even Howard had chimed in with good suggestions, like how he didn’t have a stag do, just a quiet night in while Vince went out with his mates and did the traditional piss-up. 

It seemed they really knew what they’d wanted in a marriage to each other. But Howard… Howard had faced a sticking point at Vince’s suggestion of  _ when  _ they got married. 

“Vince you… You would have been  _ eighteen.”  _ Howard balked. 

“So?” 

“So that’s… that’s so young.” Howard almost sounds guilty. As if this was a real situation and he really had married Vince upon the dawn of his adulthood. “No one that age has any business getting married.” 

“They have plenty of business if they’re in love.” 

“In love?” 

“Yes, the business of love.” Vince elaborates, Howard was trying his best not to find this back and forth amusing. Trying to smother his smirk in that moustache of his. “Anyone can have business like that.” 

All Howard can do is repeat the number in disbelief. “At eighteen.” 

Rolling his eyes, Vince argues further. “We would have been mates for ten years Howard, and depending on whenever we pretend we admitted we fancied each other, we’d have been high school sweethearts or something, right?”  Howard nods dumbly.  “That's more than enough time for us to know that we love each other--some people get married way faster  _ and  _ younger. Ask Leroy.” 

“That isn’t-- wait Leroy.” Vince just winks at him and Howard comes to the obvious conclusion he’d rather not know the things that Vince knows about their mutual friend. “Well…. Anyway, That isn’t the point I was trying to make. I just think I-- If I loved you I would have waited for you to grow up a bit. Not trapped you with me at such a young age.” 

Vince had to resist the urge to point out that despite the fact they had not actually gotten married in their youth… Vince hadn’t exactly been desperate to be anywhere but Howard’s side, had he? 

Pretty telling, wasn’t it? 

What he did was reason it out in a way Howard would understand. “You did want to wait.” 

“Oh did I?” Howard mutters. 

“Yes. You wanted a nice long engagement, like two years to plan the wedding or something.” Howard started nodding along in agreement. Vince adds, “But you’ve never been able to say no to me, you definitely wouldn’t be able to if we were dating.” 

In what had been the most amusing thing Vince had witnessed all year, Howard had flushed a delicious shade of pink that set Vince’s heart beating in double time. 

All the older man huffs is, “Well, that does sound about right.” 

And that was that. They had finally come up with their stories; after being best friends for years, Howard and Vince had fallen in love and gotten married at the prime age of 18 and 23 respectively--much to Howard disgruntled annoyance. Their engagement had been a short and sweet one, meaning barely a year later they had gotten married on March 16th, two months before Vince turned 19. And they were coming up on their fourth wedding anniversary. 

Even this needed Vince’s dedicated logic to come into play. Any shorter of a marriage would leave them in a honeymoon phase the likes of which Howard would not be able to fake-- _ don’t touch me _ \--and any longer Vince definitely would have been too young to commit to a marriage. 

So 4 years it is. 

And after that they had retired to bed. Howard shyly, and Vince with a sense of contentment washing over him from head to toe. 

Which had brought them to this morning. Naturally, being the terrible liar and only adequate actor that Howard was, he’s nervous about what inevitably came next. The part where they’d have to sell this ploy to the rest of their acquaintances, make everyone believe they were deeply in love. So much so that Howard would never dream of looking at another woman let alone a fellow married one. And he is doing nothing to expedite the process any further.

Howard makes their breakfast that morning with a slightly distant air to him, like he’s not wholly present. Vince slips past him to shower and inquires if he’s okay but doesn’t really get much of an answer, just a non-committal hum. 

They eat in silence. Howard keeps staring at his hand where the ring is secured around his finger. 

It’s just before they’re supposed to be slipping out of the door and off to start their daily routine that Vince finds he  _ needs  _ to offer comfort to the older man. If not just to make him appear less harshly guilty about this whole situation. That would surely give them away immediately. 

Vince reaches out to take Howard’s hand. The man snaps  _ ‘dont touch me’ _ but with little to no conviction. He doesn’t actually pull away either, it was an empty gripe. Vince is able to slide their fingers together, the cool of Howard’s ring against the warmth of his palm makes his breath catch. His heart skips a beat. It’s lighting him up from the inside out.  With a gentle tug, Howard is made to face Vince. The older man looks about three seconds away from pouting and Vince finds it a lot more amusing than he should. He’s having to bite his lip to keep from grinning as Howard’s scowl only deepens. 

“It’s gonna be fine, Howard.” Vince whispers it like a secret, for their ears only. Howard continues to frown at him, so he goes one further. “I promise, we’ll fix this. Do you trust me?” 

Howard’s gaze has shifted to his feet, but he’s nodding his head earnestly. 

Vince beams. “Good.” He gives the hand in his a comforting squeeze. “I’m gonna start by talking to Fossil this morning--” Howard’s head snaps up, concerned. “Don’t worry you’re not coming with me. I need to work my magic a bit. But I’ll catch up with you later, yeah?” 

“Alright.” Howard’s voice is rough. “If you think that’s best.” 

“I do,” Vince winks at him cheekily. “And if all it takes to get you to listen to me was to marry you, I’d have done it years ago.” 

Thankfully, it brings some humour back into the air. Howard manages a small smile in among all that grimacing he’s been doing. They can’t deny Vince point from the night previous has been proven though, Howard has never really been able to say no to him. 

“We’d better get going then.” Howard mutters. 

Vince agrees, but before he goes anywhere he wants to indulge himself just a little. He takes a half step forwards and rocks onto his toes. With one hand still entangled in Howards and the other pressed to his shoulder for support, Vince arches up and brushes a delicate kiss to Howard’s cheek. The man barely flinches, but there is a flinch, and Vince sputters an explanation before he can be berated. 

“For practice.” He says. 

And then he’s strutting from the keepers hut so that Howard doesn’t have a chance to say anything in response. He pretends not to see how the older keeper touches reverent fingers to his own cheek as Vince walks away. 

♡♡♡♡

Realistically there’s no  _ need  _ for Vince to go and see Fossil. The manager couldn’t offer him any information that Vince himself was likely already privy to. But as he had said with his lips against Howard’s skin this morning; practice. 

It’s also no skin off his back to go and see their mad manager if it gives him something to do away from Howard for the morning. The more time he can allow the older keeper to settle into this act the better--besides, toying with Fossil can be fun in the right light. The American was enough of a kiss-arse where Vince was concerned that he would happily allow himself to be toyed with, too. 

The harsh knock he gives the closed office door requires very little acting on Vince’s part, and the way he swings the door open before he is given permission to enter speaks to his agitation enough that Fossil immediately drops what he was doing and peers up at him with a dumbfounded expression. It’s the epitome of a child being caught with their hand in the biscuit tin. Vince kicks the door closed behind him and plants his feet. His arms cross over his chest, he likes to think he’s delivering his best scowl, but he says nothing. 

“Uh,” Fossil looks over each shoulder like he might be able to find the source of Vince’s mood standing right behind him. “Hey Vince, how can I help you?” 

The man’s already shifting in his seat; for someone who is supposed to be in the position of power here he leaves himself rather open to a little bit of tactical nudging. Vince, obviously, doesn’t mind, he thinks it’s rather helpful that their so-called boss held a ‘soft-spot’ for him. And by that he means inappropriate affection. It made it sinfully easy to manipulate him. It was part of the reason he found work-life so tolerable. 

Fossil rarely said no to Vince. 

“What’s this I hear about Howard being up for the sack?” Vince demands after a beat, just long enough for the silence to make the other man squirm. 

To his credit, Fossil jumps to try and explain, all wide eyed and apologetic. “Look Vince--” 

“Don’t start.” Vince isn’t usually a harsh personality. Typically, he’s all soft edges and bright lines. But when Howard’s happiness was on the line, then he has to get a lot sharper. “You know Howard’s one of the best zookeepers you’ve got, right? How’s it gonna help anyone if you get rid of him?” 

Fossil looks suitably scolded. “Well, it’s just business, I can’t--” Vince arches an eyebrow much in the fashion of an expectant parent waiting to be told why their child is continuing to misbehave; he'd learnt this from Howard. The American man swallows thickly. “Alright, how ‘bout I tell you a story..”

Vince wants nothing less in this world than a story from Fossil but he did rather ask for it by walking in here. He’s left, arms folded and frowning as the Manager begins his tale. “My mom and dad were married for many many years, Vince. Unhappily, but that’s beside the point. And I always remember one morning around the breakfast table, when mom decided that dad was a large German bear--she tried to shoot him down faster than you would believe. Not that Dad cared, he was wearing a colander on his head and hiding under the table in case of an invasion. I think maybe it was the preying that, in the end, convinced her of dad's humanity. The praying or the fact he was butt naked exept for the colander. So, we all still got our pancakes and managed to enjoy our Christmas day.” 

It’s frankly impressive that Vince has not turned on his heel and exited the office. “I don’t know what that means.” 

“It means the best way I can avoid a harassment case is to get rid of Moon.” 

Vince doesn’t like this answer at all; his frustrated energy manifesting in the best way it knows how. He shifts his weight on his feet, tilts his chin up defiantly “What if we fix it?” Fossil just stares blankly at him. “What if we get Mrs Gideon to come back and Mr Gideon to stop threatening legal action?” 

“Well, if you could do that then I suppose Howard can stay.” This had been the confirmation Vince has been waiting for; just in case Howard had misunderstood the parameters of the agreement. 

“Genius, then I’m gonna need Gideon's address.” 

The only reaction Vince receives is that bumbling, eager-to-please persona drips from Fossil’s face like wax off a lit candle. It’s instead replaced with hardened suspicion. He narrows his eyes at Vince, assessing him. “I’m not sure what--” 

“Look, it’s all been a huge misunderstanding.” Vince insists, and Fossil raises his eyebrows in disbelief of that statement. 

“What, like that time with the bush dogs?” 

“No, this time it  _ is _ actually a misunderstanding.” Vince rolls his eyes, steps up to the desk in the hopes of driving his point home. “Howard’s not interested in Gideon like that, he’s just bad at making friends.” 

“I don’t know, Vince, it seemed pretty…” Fossil trails off, makes a few gestures with his hand that are obscene enough for even  _ Vince  _ to go wide eyed. 

And this is it. The moment of truth, there will be no turning back once Fossil knows. If anything, half of the reason Vince bothered to come to the office this morning was to make sure that Fossil was the first to know. It helps them in the long run if the information spreads itself around more naturally than Vince and Howard being the ones to tell people. 

Vince squares his shoulders and says, “Howard  _ wasn’t  _ interested like that. He’s already taken.” Again, there’s that look of disbelief, the manager looks half a second away from arguing that  _ there’s no way that twisted giraffe has a girlfriend.  _ But Vince stops the thought in the track. “By me. He’s married to me.” 

Fossil, to his credit, only blinks at him for a few seconds before his mouth falls open on an ‘oh’ of understanding. “Well that makes a lotta sense.” 

Oh. 

Well that had been easy. 

“So can we have the address?” 

“Sure, fine.” Fossil pulls a file from his drawer and hands it over. “If you think you can convince her.”

And at this, Vince beams at him. “Oh, we can.” 

♡♡♡♡

Despite achieving exactly what he’d hoped in the office, Vince still puts off seeking Howard out after he had obtained the address. Mostly because he was a little nervous. This was where they started to stray into the _‘this could really go wrong’_ territory of the plot. Not normally something Vince thinks about, he’s had late night rendezvous with Polar Bears and took cabs all the way to Monkey hell--worrying about what might go wrong wasn’t his style. 

But this could go really wrong. 

He’s perched on a wall, legs crossed and Gideon’s file open in his lap. They were going to have to go and talk to her, which Vince wasn’t bothered about but Howard… Well, Howard was as confident as a chicken in a fox den around women. Around this woman in particular he was somehow worse. 

All things considered that’s fine, Vince was going to be there too. He could talk and charm and guide his awkward bumbling best friend into some semblance of a good lie. What he couldn’t control was how terrified he was that Howard was and always would be in love with this person, and how even as they’re  _ supposed  _ to be hopelessly in love with one another, that might still manifest in ways Howard can’t regulate with any reliability. 

Vince was terrified of seeing up close how he isn’t the one Howard wants. Not really. 

But he’s still going to do it. Because if nothing else, Vince has spent his whole life getting Howard out of the scrapes and misadventures he gets himself into, why would he stop now? There’s a lot Vince is willing to do in order to protect his best friend; including breaking his own heart. 

It’s nearing lunchtime. Howard will likely be getting antsy having not heard anything from Vince by now, and already he has taken an hour or two to prepare himself emotionally for the act that comes next. It’s about time they get a move on. 

Vince haphazardly folds the whole manila file in half and stuffs it into his back pocket, he wipes the back of his hand over his eyes, not that he’d been crying don’t be daft. This just happens when he sits near the Deer, their fur irritates his eyes. And with a brief breath to slide what he hopes is a convincing smile onto his features, Vince skips over to where he knows Howard will be at this time of day. 

As expected the man is looking rather disgruntled, unlocking the entrance to the Palm Civet enclosure with one hand while he balances a large bowl in the other. 

“Alright Howard!” Vince calls jovially, causing Howard to nearly drop everything he’s holding. “You got a sec?” 

Pointedly, Howard glances between the meat piled in the bowl that is about to become Juliet’s (the civet) dinner, and Vince himself. He takes a moment, likely weighing up if Vince is being at all serious in that question. “Uh… A little busy, Vince.” 

He can’t even get mad at Howard’s patronising tone, looking back on it, it was rather obvious that he was otherwise engaged. But Vince still grins up at him. “That’s okay,” He says, takes the bowl from Howard’s hands and slides through the now open door. “I’ll just come with you.” 

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t.” 

“Why?” Vince is waiting patiently for Howard to join him. He’s in the safety corridor, he can see Juliet pacing anxiously on the other side of the next door they have to pass through. Howard’s still hovering outside of the first door with a heavy frown on his features. 

He knows Vince is up to something, that much is clear. But as Vince just continues to smirk at him, batting his eyes innocently, it’s obvious he hasn’t yet worked out  _ what  _ Vince might be up to.  The folded file in his back pocket was obvious enough, it suddenly feels heavy like a lead weight now. It’s a wonder that Howard hasn’t seen it, peeking out of his tight jeans and giving itself away--or maybe he has seen it and he’s just waiting for Vince to admit what it was. 

Fat chance of that happening until Vince is ready. Two can play this game of mental chess; Vince might not know what pieces he’s moving but he can blindly attempt it and still win. He was lucky like that. “What’s your problem with me trying to help?” Vince asks again, sliding his queen piece closer to Howard’s metaphorical king. 

Howard spends another moment weighing up what his next move was gonna be before he lands himself firmly in checkmate. “Because all the animals like you better than me and it’s frankly a little annoying.” 

It’s a gripe, but as Howard says it he is smirking with fond affection and stepping through the door. It places him in rather close proximity to Vince inside the security corridor, their uniforms brushing as Howard locks the first door behind him and moves to unlock the second door leading into the enclosure at large. 

Something warm purrs beneath Vince’s ribs. 

“Come off it!” Vince cries in unison with the click of the lock coming undone. “I make your job so much easier.” 

As expected, as soon as they step into the enclosure together, Juliet comes trotting over eagerly; her feline features bright. If she could smile, Vince is certain that she would be. He greets her with an affectionate pet to the head, and settles himself comfortably on a decorative log. The little bowl containing her food is set at Vince’s feet. Juliet thanks him and tucks into her meal as Vince scratches lovingly behind her ears. 

He can feel Howard’s gaze on him the entire time, soft like a gentle caress. 

“You know once you give her the food, we’re supposed to leave.” Howard instructs with little conviction; it’s clear he isn’t even trying to fight that battle. He knows he has already lost. “It’s very bad for wild animals to develop attachments to humans.” 

Juliet stops eating long enough to glare at Howard, muttering a comment under her breath that has Vince choking on his giggles. “She said  _ ‘what about you and Jack Cooper? _ ’” And to be honest, that was the very kind translation of what she had  _ actually  _ said. 

Howard tilts his jaw up, Vince expects a vehement denial, but as the man sticks his nose in the air, he mutters. “Well… That’s fair enough I suppose.” Vince continues to pet her ears, and Howard lingers awkwardly. “What did you want to talk about, then?” 

“Oh!” Vince stops his petting and digs the folded file from his back pocket, handing it over to Howard. “I got it sorted.” 

“This is Gideon’s employee file?”

“Yeah.” 

“Right.” The word is drawn out, Howard does that thing with his face that makes Vince’s insides fizz; raises one eyebrow and scrunches his features in an adorable display of him not picking up whatever Vince is laying down. “So how exactly is this sorting it?” 

Vince smirks at him, at his feet even Juliet is calling Howard dense in as many colourful expletives as she can manage. “Well, we’re going to her house. Tonight.” 

It’s like a switch is flipped. How fast Howard goes from an up-his-own-arse confident type, berating Vince for his lack of understandability, to a floundering mess. Vince has never seen those shifty eyes go so wide. All colour drains from his face. Frankly, it’s a wonder he manages to keep a hold of the manila folder considering he starts vibrating with anxious energy. Vince thinks Howard might actually be swaying where he stands. 

“What, no we’re not.” 

“We are.” 

“Vince.”

“Howard.” Vince moves to stand, Juliet grumbles something about how dramatic humans are, but Vince tunes her out in favour of ambling into Howard’s personal space and landing a hand on his upper arm as comfortingly as he is allowed. “We have to convince her right? So we have to go see them.” 

“But I’m…” Howard darts his gaze around the enclosure. “But what if they don’t believe us.” 

“They will.” This is where the real problem lay, in Vince’s opinion. Despite swearing it like an oath to Howard now, he couldn’t actually promise they were going to be able to carry this off. But, they could at least try. “We’ve got the rest of the day to practice, yeah? We’ll be the perfect married couple by the time we see her.” 

Howard stills for a moment. Everything about his flighty, antsy, terrified nature pauses. It’s like someone has dipped him in ice. The only thing convincing Vince he is in fact still alive is the way his eyes seem to scan over Vince’s face intensely. Something’s going on behind those intelligent eyes, a counter plan, maybe, but whatever it is, Vince get’s no time to prepare before it is slamming into him like a freight train. 

Without any warning at all, Howard steps further into Vince’s space and pulls him up onto his toes by his upper arms. Howard kisses him. Less a kiss and more presses their faces together in what he thinks a kiss might be. Vince stiffens, squeaks into it. It’s pretty tame, Howard doesn’t even open his mouth, just sort of… waits there for a few seconds and then steps away. 

Vince is slack-jawed and light-headed. He feels a little like he had when he’d stepped through Naboo’s mirror into the mirror-world. Upside down and inside out. Buzzed but lethargic. There’s not a thought in his head except the high pitched squeal of  _ Howard.  _ Distantly, he realises his hands are fisted in Howard’s Zooniverse jacket. They’re both breathing a little heavier than before. Howard’s palms are still solid on his arms--he’s sure the man doesn’t even realise that he’s brushing his thumbs back and forth as if in a placating manner. 

Looking up at him, the vulnerable tint to his eyes, the colour dusting over his cheeks. Howard's jaw is clenched; he’s terrified. Vince almost says three little words he’s been keeping to himself since he was old enough to know exactly how much weight they carried. 

Instead he rasps, high-pitched and raw. “What was that!” 

“Practice?” Howard offers pathetically. 

_ Fuck, I love you so much.  _

In among all the static that is currently occupying his mental space, Vince does manage to kickstart some kind of response. He clears his throat, brushes the back of his hand over his mouth as if he can wipe the need to grin right off his features. “Right, well, I mean good that you’re tryin’ but… warn a bloke next time, yeah?” 

“Would… would I have to warn you if we were married?” 

Which, annoyingly, was an excellent point. “You know what, we might need more than a five minute chat to go over this. Why don’t we take our lunch break?” 

♡♡♡♡

As one might expect, Vince was going to have no trouble convincing the general population that he was madly in love with Howard. There would be no need for him to fabricate how much he wanted to shower affection on the older man; his intense desire to climb all over his partner would be something anyone could believe. 

Where they were going to struggle though, was convincing anyone that Howard  _ wanted  _ this affection as much as Vince wanted to give it. 

“You’re gonna have to let me touch you, Howard.” Vince sighs after the third attempt at laying any kind of casual affection on his so-called husband. And it wasn’t as if he was trying to lure him to bed or anything of the sort, Vince was simply trying to hold his hand. The first time, the usual snap of  _ don’t touch me _ had echoed around the hut, but as the second and third tries were made, the words died but the flinch was still present. 

Which wasn’t Howard’s fault, Vince knew it wasn’t. The man had held a rather strong aversion to touch since he was a child, and Vince had spent years learning to get around it. He knew better than Howard himself how to get him to relax into contact, but the problem was, none of the tips and tricks Vince had learnt throughout their friendship were going to be of any use now. 

For starters, Howard was fine with contact as long as he couldn’t see it coming. If the older keeper was otherwise distracted, busy with a task or a bit on the sleepy side, then it was easy as pie for Vince to stand closer than strictly necessary. He could slip it past him when they were otherwise engaged, bickering or running for their lives respectively. He could slide his hand into Howard’s, could tug on his sleeves. Once or twice had gone as far as attempting to tickle or pinch at his sides if they were heavily engaged in a verbal sparring session. 

So if Vince was in need of some physical contact, all he needed was for Howard to not  _ notice  _ it. 

The other thing Vince had learnt over the years? Howard had absolutely zero qualms initiating contact. Vince had lost count of the number of times the older man would lay a decisive hand on his shoulder, a palm at the small of his back. Would tug him in one direction or another by his elbow. Even on occasion--mostly when they were younger, it had died off recently--Howard wouldn’t be completely against offering comfort in a contact-based way either. He’d pat at Vince’s back, run hands over his hair, thumb tears away from his face. 

It just had to be on Howard’s terms. 

Which, the logical side of Vince’s brain pointed out, probably wouldn’t change even if they were married. This was who Howard was as a person, being in love wouldn’t change that, but what it would change would be how they compromised with each other, he supposes. 

If they had been married for four years then, while Howard disliked impromptu contact initiated by Vince he likely would have found ways to accept it. Similarly, Vince almost certainly would have found ways to request the contact when he needed it, so that Howard could provide it on his own terms. That’s what love was, wasn’t it, adjusting to the other person. Adoring them in spite of their quirks, flaws, and intricacies. 

Even as he thinks it, he realises that he has already been doing this for years. 

Since he was a kid he’d learnt when was the most ideal time to sneak in a cuddle. He’s learnt that if he plucks fingers at Howard’s cuff then nine times out of ten the older man will snatch his fingers. It’s understood that if he pulls a certain expression, doe eyes and pouty lips, then it’s pretty much guaranteed Howard will lay a hand on his shoulder while exclaiming ‘ _ Hey, little man, what’s wrong.’  _

So, in his own way, Vince has been married to Howard for years. It’s just a question of whether or not Howard was self aware enough to realise how he has attuned himself to Vince’s silent requests too. 

Which is the whole point of this exercise. 

No one ever notices when they don’t work anyway, the whole staffing system of the zoo is a little broken in that--well, no one really does what might be constituted as proper work. Half of Vince and Howard’s day was normally spent bickering over what work they _should_ be doing while the animals watched on in annoyance. So of course, neither of them thinks it’s going to be a big deal if they take an extended lunch in order to practice how Howard receives contact. 

It wasn’t going so well. 

“I’m not saying you have to suddenly be into it, it’s just--” Vince sighs, Howard looks small where his shoulders hunch. “If we were married I’d want to hold your hand sometimes, wouldn’t I?” 

Howard looks away, his head moves in a stiff nod. His features painted a dusty pink with his embarrassment. It’s endearing as anything Vince has ever seen, but he has to keep his mentor cap on for now and try to work their way around this. 

“Alright, why don’t we try a different way?” Vince adjusts his position where he’s sat facing Howard on the sofa. He straightens his back, lays his hands in his lap and waits. Howard says nothing, just looks at him like a deer looks at the headlights of an oncoming truck. “You do it.” 

While he’s not entirely sure Howard is aware of how easily he can initiate the contact between them when he wants to, or if he is just pretending he’s oblivious to his own contradictions, Vince thinks it’s about time that the older keeper opened his eyes to it a little bit. 

He waits, patiently, as Howard seems to mentally weigh up his options. First, he shifts where he sits. They’re beside each other on the sofa, bodies turned into one another and knees brushing. Vince has his legs tucked up beneath himself but Howard’s too gangly for that, his feet are planted firmly on the floor and he shifts his weight to face Vince more fully. Howard seems to be regarding Vince like one might look at a ticking time bomb they’re expected to diffuse--utter terror but fierce determination. 

Eventually, after a solid minute of this consideration, Howard reaches one large hand forward and laces his fingers with Vince’s. It isn’t like how they had held hands yesterday, because in his urgency to see the ring Howard hadn't been  _ thinking  _ about what he was doing. Now he’s thinking a lot. Vince can feel it. How hard Howard grips his hand fluctuates, like he’s trying to find the appropriate amount of pressure. His fingers tighten and then loosen again. His palms are a bit clammy, anxious. But he’s trying, and that’s what’s important. 

The thing that they can no longer deny about Howard is, he always seemed to do better when there was no thought involved in the action. Overall, he preferred having control of how he received it--therefore it was better for him to initiate--but even then, as a chronic overthinker, if he was  _ expected  _ to do the thing he would suffocate himself under his own anxiety. 

Ideally, wherever possible. The contact shouldn’t be something that is forced--which does put them in something of a pickle. Considering this whole charade required a little bit of forcing. 

“That’s good,” Vince praises, and despite Howard not outwardly reacting to the reinforcement, his hand in Vince’s relaxes minutely. “See? Not so bad is it.” 

“Alright Vince, we’re holding hands not conducting brain surgery.” Howard snaps, Vince doesn’t take it to heart. He knows how much this must mean to him too. Though it does take everything in his power not to comment on the fact that sharing affection with Howard was pretty damn close to conducting brain surgery. 

“It _ is _ good though!” Vince makes a point to give his hand a squeeze. Then lays his free hand on top. “At least now we know the best way to do things like this is going to be for you to take the lead, right?” 

At which point all of Howards insinuations of grandeur fade away. The jittery mess of earlier has once again returned. “Me? But… How am I supposed to know when it’s time to hold your hand?” 

Really, Vince was at risk of passing out how dizzy he gets every time Howard willingly exposes this vulnerable side of himself. The reality being, it’s not often he sees it. Howard wears false confidence and exaggerated arrogance as disguises to hide what a sensitive soul he is. Even Vince doesn’t often get to peak beneath those masks. Now, though, he has no choice.  Romance was an inherently difficult topic for Howard, which many might have already guessed. He’s incredibly insecure about it, and unfortunately, that mean he was going to be trusting Vince with the most fragile part of himself. 

Vince isn’t honestly sure he’s up to the task of protecting it, to be honest, but he’ll certainly try. 

“You’ll know, Howard.” He reassures easily. “You’ll feel it. And it’s not just about the hands either, it’s like…” He trails off, tries to think of the best way of putting it that an emotionally stunted mess like Howard might understand. “You know love songs--even Jazz has to have love songs right?” 

Howard seems suspicious of this line of thought, but he nods his head in agreement anyway. 

“Well it’s like what they say--”

“Most jazz doesn’t  _ say  _ anything, Vince. It’s complex chord progressions, polyrhythms and improvisations.” And it’s frankly  _ infuriating  _ how Howard can still be a pretentious twat even while his eyes are misty with uncertainty and his hands cling to Vince like a scared child clings to their mother. “Unless there’s scat singing which--” 

“Oh my god, shut up or I’m divorcing you.” The snapped annoyance is something so usual for them in among all of this unusual behaviour that Howard startles into laughter, and soon after Vince is following him. They snicker and giggle joyfully until some of the tension in the room loses its intensity. 

They can breathe and not feel as ground-breaking anymore. 

“Sorry, you were making a point?” Howard prompts after a beat. 

“Oh right. Yeah.” Annoyingly, Vince takes a second to gather his wits before he can remember what he was trying to say with any reliability. “My point was, doesn’t matter what genre, love songs are all about the same things right? It’s a universal language, wanting to be near to someone, and to touch them. It ain’t just about holding hands, people have lots of different ways of touchin’ to show that they love people.” 

This information does nothing to comfort Howard. If anything he seems more anxious than before. Understandable, Vince had just layered a lot of expectation on his plate. 

“Don’t panic Howard, you’ll pick it up in no time.” Vince knew this for certain, because again, whether he knew it or not, Howard was already pretty good at picking up on Vince’s cues for contact. As long as he could keep that up, they might just be fine. 

Though. 

“There’s something else we should chat about though.” And if Vince wasn’t nervous before, then he certainly is now. He carefully extracts his hand from where Howard had continued to mindlessly hold it and steels himself for how this conversation was going to go down. 

Howard is attentive as ever, a scholar to the core, ready to do some learning. He even seems to have relaxed marginally from the ball of nerves he’d been at the mention of leading all their contact. “Well?” He asks. 

“The kissing.” 

There’s a very real effort from Howard to not have another minor meltdown. His whole body tenses, but he manages to school his features into a mask of calm that Vince equates with his utter terror. It’s the same way he’d looked in Monkey Hell, as if he was only mildly annoyed with the ape of death about to plunge him into hell--not giving away how deeply shaken he was. Vince tries his best to plough forward without wincing on his behalf. 

“I’m not saying we have to get all up in each other’s business, but, well, a little peck every now and then is probably gonna be what people expect, yeah?” Howard agrees, and he clearly already knows where this is going. He’s already adjusting his posture to better enter Vince’s personal space. “Maybe we’ll start with you doing it, that seems to work.” 

“Can you…” Howard swallows thickly, he’s looking somewhere to the left of Vince’s head rather than directly at him. “Can you close your eyes?” 

For a second, the briefest of things, Vince’s mouth drops open. He wants to demand why, or perhaps say no, because he was aware there were going to be very few instances in his life that he gets exactly what he wants from Howard and he didn’t want to miss a second of it. But, there’s that look on his face again. Knitted brows and wide eyes. It’s utter helplessness, it Howard trusting him to not shatter him into a million pieces with this one request. 

Vince doesn’t know why Howard needs to  _ not be seen _ right now, but he doesn't deny him.

It’s with a startling level of trust that he slides his eyes closed and waits. Vince holds his breath tight in his chest. His hands are trembling. There’s static crackling in the air between them and making his fingertips tingle where they rest in his lap. 

The air settles around them. It’s still like the humid summer air before a storm breaks. Vince feels it gather beneath his lungs; there’s the sensation of falling, like he’s tipping himself over the edge of an abyss. 

A hand takes his again, more confident than it had been a moment previous. Howard waits a beat, just feeling the weight of their hands together. Then, with the accompanying rustle of fabric to indicate a moving body, there is the gentle press of lips at his forehead. So light that Vince thinks he might have imagined it. The second press is at his cheek, and Vince can’t stop the sharp inhale. A dry palm cups where Howard just kissed, thumb dragging over the rise of a cheekbone tactfully, and then Howard’s mouth meets his. 

It’s careful. Not as rushed and desperate to please as last time had been. This time Howard seems to be doing his best to feel out the process as one should when kissing a new partner for the first time. He pecks him carefully once, twice, and on the third time he lingers for a second longer than necessary. The tickle of his moustache is already a sensation Vince thinks he might be in danger of becoming addicted to. 

Howard retreats from his third quick peck, and Vince thinks maybe that’s it, but before he can wind himself down from the heights he has been sent to--Howard is back again. This time, once contact has been made, the older man opens his mouth a little and Vince nearly swoons. 

This is supposed to be Howard’s exercise but Vince can’t help himself. He is probably much too eager in how he presses himself forward, eyes still closed, and mouths at him in return. There’s a pleased hum in the back of his throat but Howard doesn’t seem to mind; if anything he seems intent on mimicking Vince’s technique. 

Honestly, Howard isn’t a brilliant kisser. He’s a bit clumsy and definitely too shy. When Vince gets a bit brave and reaches out with his own hands, sliding fingers into the older man’s curly hair and urging his head to the side a little, he follows willingly. For all intents and purposes Howard seems a little relieved Vince has taken over; eagerly responds when Vince pulls at his lower lip with teeth, even gets brave enough to drop a hand to his waist and Vince gets dizzy with how those fingers press into his skin. There’s no tongue, not yet, Vince isn’t stupid enough to introduce _ that _ lest it spook the older keeper into realising exactly what they’re doing. 

It’s gone way past a practice kiss. This isn’t the kind of thing they were going to do in public to convince people they were married. They were just… enjoying each other. 

Their noses bump awkwardly, Vince breathing weak giggles into Howard’s mouth, and for whatever reason, all Howard does is adjust his posture so that it doesn’t happen again. Howard’s smirk when Vince can’t seem to get as close to him as he wants tastes sweeter than anything he has ever put in his mouth up until this point in his life. Strawberry bootlaces, who? Vince wants to spend the rest of time swallowing Howard’s smile. 

It goes on long enough that neither of them could really put a number to it, and it only stops because Vince finds the rather insistent urge to climb into Howard’s lap and keep going. At which point he knows he is letting himself stray into dangerous territory. 

In some ways, he feels dirty. It’s no secret Howard wasn’t exactly experienced, and here was Vince robbing him of what should be a pretty intimate act and  _ enjoying  _ it. This was only supposed to be an act. 

So why, when he draws away, does it feel like he isn’t the only one who is disappointed at having to stop. 

Howard is flushed when Vince pries his eyes open again. Thanks to Vince’s wandering fingers, his hair is sticking up in all kinds of directions. His eyes are wide and filled with--desire? No--innocent awe. Vince is willing to bet he looks no better. 

“Well,” He rasps, swallows thickly. “You’re fine initiating then… Just gotta teach you how to receive it without flinching.” 

And yes, Vince really does hate himself for how pleased he is that this ‘teaching’ was likely going to involve some more extended contact with his best friend. But really, he’d challenge anyone to turn down the opportunity to feel this close to the person they’re in love with. 

“Think we can do that before we go and see Gideon tonight?” Vince asks, and it isn’t entirely on purpose that he makes it sound like a challenge, but it works. 

A slow smirk spreads on Howard’s features, and he’s agreeing. 

_ It’s to save our jobs,  _ Vince reminds himself,  _ just to save our jobs.  _

♡♡♡♡

The Gideon’s live in exactly the kind of place Vince imagined they would. 

The white picket fence and the perfectly groomed hedges, the Koi pond in the garden full to the brim with a particularly snobby type of scaled animal. Vince had never really gotten on with Koi Carps, and he’d only grown to dislike them more since that one ran to the press about Howard. There’s a cobblestone path leading through the centre of the unnaturally green lawn, ending right at their front door. It’s the kind of semi-detached normalcy that Vince would balk at the thought of living in.

But Howard? There’s a distinct sense of longing rolling off of him in waves as they get closer and closer to the residence. It speaks enough to how much he craves this kind of future. 

He wants the fairy-tale ending. 

Frankly Vince finds it all a bit boring, would rather end up in a box flat in central London with colourful walls and Bollo in the spare room than the dull, two storey, picture-perfect nightmare that this family sports. 

Still, he knew Howard was a traditionalist when he married him. 

“Why did you need to go to Fossil for the address?” Howard asks; it’s a rather transparent way of making conversation and masking his nerves if you asked Vince, but it’s also a perfectly reasonable question.  Especially when you consider Howard knew Gideon’s address already (the koi carp would vouch for that fact). 

B ut where most people might consider Vince to be a little bit thick--and in most senses of the word you’d be correct--he did actually have a brain in his head somewhere. 

“Fossil is as good at keeping secrets as a wallaby is at chess,” Meaning terrible. Vince watches as the understanding (and horror) dawns on Howard’s face. “Half the zoo are going to know about us by the time Gideon comes back, so if she chooses to double check what we’re saying--” 

“Everyone’s going to know.” For a man who had spent the past half a day ‘practicing’ his ability to exchange physical affection with Vince, the fact this is what Howard chooses to get panicky over says a lot. 

At least it does to Vince. 

Their lessons in getting Howard comfortable letting Vince touch him had been mildly successful. It was rather abundantly clear that wherever possible, Howard prefers to be the one initiating any given contact, but he had accepted that sometimes he would have to allow Vince the same privilege. So what they had done was spend hours--hours--trying to ensure that if Vince rocked onto his toes to press a kiss to Howard’s cheek or reached out to hold his hand, then the man wouldn’t flinch away  _ quite  _ as violently as he had previously. 

Unfortunately, there was sometimes still a bit of flinching. But he was trying, and at least he didn’t snap not to touch him anymore. That defensive cry had been silenced deceptively easily. 

“It makes sense,” Vince defends the decision; they pass through Gideon’s front gate and Howard still looks stuck somewhere between humiliation and pride at Vince’s actions with their manager. “It would look well suspicious if we made a point to run around tellin’ everyone. Best to let it get around naturally. I know what I’m doing, alright? Have a little faith in me.” 

“I think it’s a little late for me not to,” Is the sighed response, Vince only shooting him a suitably withering expression as they come to a joint stop outside of Gideon’s navy blue door. 

Before they go any further into this interaction, Vince utilises one of their newfound codes of conduct. He very lightly brushes fingers over the back of Howard’s hand, a silent request rather than an insistent initiation. Howard, of course, humours him. Vince finds his hand clutched with a sense of urgency; Howard clings onto him for dear life. 

Once that point of contact is established, Vince uses it to offer a comforting squeeze. “Let me do most of the talking, okay?” 

“Okay.” It’s the easiest agreement Howard has given since this whole thing started.

With that, Vince knocks hard on the door before them. Just twice, two simple knocks rather than any kind of fun and elaborate knocking sequence he might use in any other circumstance. Fun didn’t belong here, this was all seriousness. He thinks Howard might be trembling slightly. 

It takes less than a minute for the door to swing open, and thankfully it's Mrs Gideon herself that answers; looking rather unusual given that Vince had always seen her in uniform and now she wears a colourful patterned blouse and a sensible skirt to match. “Vince!” She coos delightedly, if not a little surprised. That is, until her eyes track towards Howard, at which point her typical sense of confusion permeates the air. “Oh and…” 

Vince has to wonder why she bothered quitting at all if she  _ genuinely _ never remembers who Howard is. Though, remembering his name or not, it is clear she remembers some things about Howard, because the second the woman realised he was present she has gone from open and welcoming to stiff and on guard. She doesn’t seem to know what to do with their presence, the way she shifts her weight anxiously on her feet speaks to that. Like most people she has always had a bit of a soft spot for Vince, and despite herself, she is clearly pleased to see him. But her eyes keep darting over to Howard in suspicion and it’s clear that Vince is going to have to fix this quickly.

“Hi Mrs Gideon.” Vince cuts in, before she does something silly like close the door or call for her husband. “We heard you’d left the zoo and just wanted to pop by and say how sorry we were to see you go.” 

It’s the word that does it. The  _ we _ . Her eyes dart down to their joined hands and suddenly, understanding crosses her features the exact same way it had on Mr Fossil. 

“Well that makes sense,” She mutters to herself, and then peers back up at Vince with a warm smile. “Would you like to come in for some tea?” 


	4. Four

Howard is lost. He’s so lost. He might genuinely need a map and a well oriented compass to try and understand exactly where he is, because it certainly doesn’t feel like any reality he’s ever been a part of. 

Gideon didn’t need further clarification than the sight of their joined hands, apparently, and then she had invited them in for tea. 

Of course, being the social butterfly and people pleaser that he is, Vince had rather easily said yes. Which is why Howard finds himself pressed shoulder to shoulder with his younger friend, trying his best to work out  _ what the hell is happening _ while his fake husband and the woman that almost got him sacked chat animatedly about god knows what.

He’s so lost. 

At least he’s keeping up the act well. Howard’s been diligently paying attention to Vince’s cues, every tiny brush of fingers against his thigh or the back of his hand and like a well trained puppy, Howard leaps to action. He hasn’t said a word since Gideon opened the door to them, not vocally anyway. But Howard often appreciates the subtext of the thing, and he knew he was probably saying a whole lot with his actions. 

When he slides his arm around Vince’s back as casually as he can manage, or shifts in his seat so their knees brush, he’s saying something. Each action draws Gideon’s eye, she watches every little interaction with soft enjoyment. It’s the same way people look at kittens and babies, Howard thinks, conveying how adorable they think the thing is with their expressions alone. 

Howard isn’t entirely sure what to make of how  _ easily  _ she accepted this lie as fact. 

It’s not entirely unexpected where Vince is concerned. Vince could sell ice to polar bears. Just watching how he works is akin to witnessing a magic act up close. Howard’s always known Vince to be effervescent in every interaction ever since they were children; he’d witnessed him charm and placate and hypnotise people from all walks of life. Hell, not even just people, he was built to entice, even half the animals at the Zoo couldn’t escape that pull. Bollo loved him, the bats adored him, all the sea lions vied for his attention on a regular basis. 

A young Howard had been just as intrigued, only he hadn’t been as stupefied by it as many people had. Upon seeing how girls and boys alike at their school had tripped over themselves to be Vince’s friend he had taken the high road. Had stuck his nose in the air and declared Vince shallow and empty-headed… And Vince had giggled at him. 

Since then Howard had managed to maintain a somewhat respectable distance from the allure of Noir and forged a friendship with him instead. He could have easily given into that instant feeling of adoration; though even as a child Howard deemed himself better than that. Did it linger below the surface? Of course it did. Howard was only human, and Vince was steeped in beauty from his soul to his features--especially as the pair of them had aged and Vince’s electric personality wasn’t the only thing drawing people to him-- in a way that he’d have to be blind to ignore. Coupled with his striking confidence and his rapier sharp tongue, the younger man was a walking weapon. 

Did he still occasionally fall victim to Vince’s spell? Well, three or four hours of snogging in the keepers hut this afternoon was all the answer he could give to that. 

Howard resolutely believed himself to be a heterosexual man but  _ Christ  _ had there been questions in his teen years. 

Questions that apparently need revisiting now that they were in their twenties. 

“Isn’t that right Howard?” Vince is saying, Howard snaps violently to attention from where he had been staring at Vince while he spoke. The fact he hadn’t been paying attention must be clear on his features because Vince looks a second away from bursting into laughter as he elaborates. “I was just saying that Fossil told us what happened and you, obviously, wanted to come ‘round and say sorry.” 

Oh right. That. 

“Ye--Yes. Yeah.” Even Howard flinches at how shaky his voice sounds. Vince’s hand settles on his knee and, as much as it startles him, the warmth of the contact settles his stuttering heart somewhat. “Sorry, Mrs Gideon.” 

Gideon watches him a moment longer, assessing, but whatever she sees in him--and he dreads to think what that is--must make him trustworthy to her. “That’s alright,” She says sincerely. “I suppose you are just a bit of a strange man, aren’t you.” 

Which Howard personally takes offence to, but pale fingers dig hard into the meat of his thigh and remind him to pick his battles very carefully. “... Yup.” He agrees. Vince gazes at him with such pride that it makes the sense of embarrassment worth it. 

“So, do you think you could come back to the zoo, Mrs Gideon, now that we’ve straightened all this out?” Vince is using his tone very carefully. It’s dripping sickly sweet like honey, and Howard knows for certain that if he were on the receiving end he’d be doing anything he said. Gideon herself is already falling victim. 

Howard has no doubt she would have said yes immediately had the front door not banged shut at that exact moment and broken her from her trance. This time it’s Howard reaching out to Vince, threading his fingers into Vince’s smaller hand so that the younger man doesn’t show his annoyance over this interruption too obviously. 

The man that saunters into the living room must be Mr Gideon. 

He’s a good four or five inches shorter than Howard but still intimidating to behold. His shoulders broad, the moustache on his face would be rivalled only by Dixon Bainbridge. The set of his features is stern, like he’s permanently furious at the world around him; and his eyes look terrifyingly large behind the thick lenses of his glasses. The aura he emits makes even Vince still like a startled animal, it's that of an apex predator. This man clearly knows he is at the top of any given food chain. 

Not unlike Vince. But the way Vince manages his energy is startlingly different.

Vince was  _ literally  _ raised by wild things, and yet knows how to control the part of him that's wild. He's a jungle cat; feral but regulated. Each move calculated, deceptively cute with razor sharp claws for when needed. Mr Gideon, however, radiates the same energy as a grizzly bear; brute force and unpredictability. 

Howard is thankful he's not the only one swallowing around his nerves. The pair of them are clinging to each other like prey animals. 

"Who's this then?" He inquires, and despite his rough exterior his voice is calm and polite. The accent is cut-glass, sharp at the edges. He's clearly educated, too. 

Howard hates him already. 

No wonder Gideon never looked twice at him if this is the sort she's marrying. 

"This is Vince from the Zooniverse," Gideon explains, gesturing first to Vince, then to Howard. "And Howard."

There's no time at all for Howard to process that Gideon just  _ remembered his name.  _ Because as is expected of any man who comes face to face with his wife's alleged stalker, Mr Gideon does not receive this news well. 

"You mean the pervert?" The man demands, voice booming. His gaze whips to Howard hunched form and he feels approximately two inches tall in the face of it. "The man who  _ harassed  _ you out of your job?  _ That  _ Howard?"

Each word twists his insides. Not even because he's never heard them before, Howard is a very unfortunate combination of traits that often lead to accusations like these being made against him. He was tall, gangly, and moved like a drunken gazelle. He had little to no social skills, and even if he managed to start a conversation he wasn't sure how to carry it other than to try his best to make the person he was speaking to  _ like  _ him. No matter how he tried to highlight all the strengths to his character what people usually noticed instead were the flaws. 

So yes, he's heard people refer to him as a pervert, as a creep, as a weirdo.  _ Vince  _ has referred to him as those things before. But, somehow, none of it's ever really felt… sincere. 

The way Mr Gideon spits the words at him is as if Howard was something he had stepped in in the street. Disgust. And Howard feels sick to hear it. 

"Oi! Do you mind?" Vince barks with such intensity even Howard turns a startled gaze on him. "There's no need to be rude about it, 'Oward's come to set things straight, he didn't have to."

Vince has drawn the attention of the husband and the atmosphere in the room pulls taught like a piano wire. Howard remembers seeing two of the wolves at the zoo face off once, and it was not dissimilar to the way Vince and Mr Gideon eye each other in this moment. IT's a silent battle for dominance. Two rather mouthy individuals realising that there's only room for one of them to be the leading speaker for the situation; neither of them want to surrender their voice but one of them is going to have to. Strategically they both know it's better to operate on the defensive; usually the first to make a swing leaves himself open for harsh rebuttal. So they're left simply sizing each other up from their respective positions. 

Mr Gideon loses that game of chicken. "And who are you supposed to be, his wife?" 

Again, not a comment Vince would be in anyway unused to hearing. The younger man had made his stylistic choices young and stuck with them, and while Howard rarely did anything close to  _ defending  _ like he really should given the man of action persona he so often boasted, he definitely supported. Vince was who he was and no one should ever make him feel bad about that--it's exactly what he is going to say, as soon as he stops choking on his panic. 

The last time he felt this helpless he was in limbo. 

It's incredibly lucky that Vince has never really been the type to need defending; he was a bit of a cockney ragamuffin, and as Howard had previously been reminded.  _ A feral child.  _

"And what if I am, you great posh bellend." It's amazing that they're managing to argue without actually yelling. While both parties are stern and harsh, neither raise the volume. Vince is practically vibrating with his frustration though, and Howard is glad he has a hold on him, because he's worried about Vince throwing hands very soon. "Let's not get arsey just 'cause you fancy me. Jealousy ain't a good colour on you, though given the way you dress I'm not sure any colours a good colour on you."

"Now listen here you little--" 

"Sorry mate, if I'm listening to anyone it's my husband thanks. Not the rejected monopoly man."

It does stall him, Howard notices, the mention of a marriage. Mr Gideon's magnified eyes widen in barely concealed surprise before he is casting that gaze down to where Howard clings onto Vince's hands, the joined fingers resting easily in his lap. It like watching a toddler try to do complicated equations how he filters through various emotions, confusion, frustration, terror. Eventually though, he lands on cold disbelief.  "There's no way  _ that freak  _ convinced anyone to marry--" 

Vince not only whips his own left hand into a raised position, cutting off whatever scathing comment Mr Gideon had been about to make, but he grabs Howard's left hand by the wrist too and makes sure that the man gets a good side by side look. 

"Wanna see our marriage certificate too?" Vince taunts. "Or maybe if I just get 'im off all over your horrifically patterned furniture, will that do. Only it ain't gonna take Scotland Yard to crack this case, is it. So how about you make a very nice apology to my perfectly innocent husband and I can go back to living my life, rather than listening to a grown man throw a tantrum because his wife dares to have a successful career."

And much like the wolves, the second one of them barks loud enough, the other is backing down. Mr Gideon visibly deflates in the face of Vince' s vicious insistence, looking helplessly at his wife--who for all intents and purposes rather looks like she wishes _she_ was the one married to Vince, and why does that make Howard want to start laying his own claims out there. 

Vince knows he's won, but it's very difficult for him to climb down from that level of an outburst. Howard knows he has to take over from here, Vince is going to be wallowing in his own mood for at least another hour. 

It's really not that often he loses his temper like that. 

"I think--uh. What Vince is, what we both came to say, really was…" Howard clears his throat. Hopes some of Vince's bravery can seep into him by sheer proximity. "It really has just been a big misunderstanding." Vince nudges at his leg. "Oh, and I'm sorry. Again. And please come back to the zoo." 

The Gideon's look at each other, considering. Mr Gideon seems wary of Vince, after his defeat in their bizarre verbal spar, and instead addresses Howard. "I suppose I may have misjudged the situation." he offers, and it's clear the apology is entirely unwilling on his behalf. 

Not that it matter to Howard, he accepts it with a small proud smile and a glance at Vince. Like he can't believe it actually worked. 

Vince just smiles back at him, exhausted, but relieved. 

They did it, they actually carried off the lie. 

♡♡♡♡

The following day, Howard wakes before Vince, as is usual. He makes breakfast, stares a little at the ring on his finger as he waits for the kettle to boil and considers the topsy-turvy day they had experienced yesterday. 

It should perhaps concern him just how easily everyone around them seemed to be accepting this ruse. Fossil, by Vince’s accounts, had not bat an eye at the insinuation. Mrs Gideon had been convinced by the sight of their joined hands. Even Mr Gideon, with a harsh word or two, had accepted what they said as gospel. It honestly makes him wonder why they had gone through so much effort to bother with any of their falsified evidence. Because it certainly appeared as if they didn’t need it. 

And the thing that stuck most in Howard’s mind? 

As they had walked home from the Gideon residence the night previous; Vince was still vibrating with raw frustrated energy and each step seemed more lethargic than the last. Howard had turned a smile on him, “You alright?” 

“Fine, he jus’ wound me up a bit is all.” 

Howard had been forced to bite his tongue in order to not protest Vince’s protective streak. He’d rather gotten into the habit since their childhood of boasting that he can look after himself when in reality, he often can’t. They’re both more than aware of this recurring theme in their lives; Howard gets into trouble and Vince fixes it. But, it’s not something they acknowledge. Even if, occasionally, Howard wished they could just so he could thank Vince for putting himself in situations like this over and over again in order to keep Howard happy. It was not a sacrifice Howard was blind to. 

Vince did not like the parts of himself that weren't sunshine. He balked at the slightly rougher edges of his character. He got stroppy, but rarely truly _furious._ When he did, nine times out of ten it was at Howard's aggressors (The ape of death and Mr Gideon being two prime examples). Howard genuinely loathed that he did not have the words to express how grateful he was. 

What he did have, now, was t his new talent of non-verbal comfort. He had skimmed his hand down the younger man's arm and laced his fingers into Vince’s; beaming proudly down at him as they found their way home together.

He wonders this morning, as he stares at his ring, how long they will need to carry this off. While neither of them had ever agreed that a break-up was part of the plan, it seems only the natural conclusion for Howard. After all, they were both young and (vaguely) single men, they would want to find partners of their own eventually. Vince almost certainly would, there plenty of eligible bachelorettes (and bachelors) ready to throw themselves down at Vince's feet. He would surely, eventually, get bored of faking a marriage with Howard and thus remaining unable to get any real action elsewhere.

Howard wanted to get married for real one day. 

Vince sighs in his sleep, rolls over on the floor where he still lays and Howard finds himself smiling with soft affection for the boy. All tucked up in his sleeping bag, face relaxed and innocent in his rest. 

Sometimes he looks like he’s ten again, when they had used to partake in sleepovers on the regular. Which raises the question, in this falsified version of their lives, at what point would Howard have realised his adoration for his little man? 

If he had to guess, he’d probably have said around the time they started at the zoo. Vince bright eyed and following hot on Howard’s heels wherever he went. He remembers telling the younger boy he had the job and watching him get misty eyed over the fact they might not get to spend time together anymore--Howard had wrangled him a job within the week. 

Or maybe, the more realistic of answers. Howard had fallen for Vince the moment they’d met. 

Which is a train of thought that feels is too much to explore even in a theoretical sense. Howard promptly distracts himself by buttering Nutella on toast and setting about waking up his other half. Gentle whispers of his name ringing out in the quiet hut, Howard brushes the hair of his face as carefully as he can manage before giving the sleeping man's shoulder a gentle shake. "Vince?" 

Vince awakes with a gentle hum, his features scrunching up in disgust at being forced into wakefulness, and then he’s blinking his eyes open. 

“Mm, mornin’ ‘oward.” He sighs, wonderfully sleep soft where he beams up at him. Howard squeezes his shoulder and offers a hand to help him into a seated position. 

“Tea and toast on the table.” Howard instructs. “I’m heading out to get started for the day.” 

“M’kay, I’ll be out soon.” This is a lie, Vince never follows until noon at least--he’s almost certainly going to lay back down and fall asleep the second Howard vacates the hut. But, he acknowledges this falsehood with a smile, and ventures for the door. 

Howard opens the door into the bright sunshine, takes one step into the warm summer air--and then he’s immediately rushing back inside and slamming the door closed. 

As expected, Vince had already returned to laying, and he startles upright once more with Howard’s dramatic reappearance. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Gideon’s out there.” 

This catches Vince’s attention, he leaps from his sleeping bag and rushes to Howard’s side to peer out of the keepers hut door. They crack it open slightly, poke their heads round the door jam, and there she is. In uniform, emerging from Fossils office with a smile. 

“We did it.” Howard breathes. 

“I told you we would!” They slide back into the room together and in his excitement, his utter relief, Howard brings Vince to his chest. The younger man, while startled, does not question the action, only tucks his face to Howard's neck and slides his thin arms around Howard's waist. 

“Thank you, Vince.” 

Vince draws away, rocks up onto his toes and delivers an affectionate peck to Howard’s cheek. “What are husband’s for?” 

What are they for, indeed. 

♡♡♡♡

With Gideon back in her role, things go back to relative normalcy. 

Relative being the operative word. 

The week following their success is the same as any other week, while also being distinctly different. Confusing, but that was how things had to be. They wake up the same every morning, except, maybe a little closer together than is typical for them. Howard is noticing that he will find Vince's limbs tossed across his body or his hair ticking beneath this nose. He doesn't mention it. 

They will still bicker fondly and spend inordinate amounts of time not actually doing any work while they're on shift. But now, there's an extra layer to any given interaction. Howard certainly isn't flinching when Vince prods playfully at his tummy; nor is it that uncommon to find Howard himself tugging on Vince's hair in a tease. Even the non-humour filled interactions. At lunch these days Howard has no qualms slipping an arm over Vince's shoulders as the younger man insists on taking a mid-day sleepy right on Howard's shoulder. Vince will peck his cheek hello whenever they find each other after a brief instance of separation. 

It's certainly much easier to refer to Vince with affection verbally too. Gideon finds them on lunch a lot these days, eager to engage them in conversation and every time she manages to remember Howard's name. It's baffling really. She will ask about their days, their plans for the week. Howard has taken on a whole new meaning for the term 'little man'. 

All things considered, it doesn't bother him that much. Everyone thinks they’re married, acting like that in public is rather what he signed up for. 

However; a full week into this new normal and what was starting to make Howard think was the interactions that nobody else saw. The private ones. 

Vince loved cuddles and because of this rigorous exercise in desensitising Howard to contact, he barely bats an eye these days if they were winding down after a shift and Vince flopped into his lap. Instead he’s just lift the book he was reading, allow the man to curl onto him like a cat, and then settle his free hand in the younger man's hair. He can't blame Vince for seeking him out more frequently, after all, they were both getting into habits that would be difficult to break. 

Loathe as he is to admit it even Howard is seeking out Vince more than he ever remembers doing. 

He’d find himself brushing hair from the little mans face because it's gone a little wonky while they work and he knows Vince hates his hair no cooperating. Howard will slide an arm over his shoulder as they watch Colobos on the telly at night. Once, as much as he tells himself it was because Gideon and Graham were in view from the kitchen window, Howard had sidled up to Vince’s back as he chopped bananas for the primates and dropped his chin to the crown of his head and slid arms about his waist with a tired sigh. That one, he had later protested, was entirely down to him having not slept well the night before and feeling a little rough. 

It wasn’t even just the cuddling though. 

They kissed now. For the first few days, they tried to avoid it, on the basic understanding that Howard was as awkward as a cow on a frozen lake when it came to that particular expression of intimacy. But then Vince had started rocking up on his toes to press a kiss to his cheek whenever he said goodbye in full view of other people. So naturally, a competitive man as he was, Howard had started pressing kisses to the crown of his head, or his forehead, when _he_ was saying goodbye. 

Which was only a gateway to everything else. 

Like how Howard had started getting a little needy for Vince’s attention and had discovered that nothing got said attention back quite like a kiss. 

Howard vividly remembers an incident just four days after Gideon's re-hiring. The African Pygmy Hedgehogs had just had a litter of Hoglets and Vince was enamoured with them; he had woken Howard up screeching his excitement and lead the older man by the hand to the little enclosure in the med-bay. Sure enough, there were four tiny pink jellybeans, and a proud looking hedgehog mum overlooking them all. 

They had remained there almost all day. Apparently, this spiky new mum had a lot to say about her pregnancy experience and Vince was an eager listener.

It shouldn't have bothered him. It really, really, shouldn't have bothered him. Vince was an animal person. Adoring all creatures great and small was part of his personality. Howard should not have felt jealousy pooling low in his stomach, nor should he have been so put out by being ignored. At one point, Howard had left for a whole hour to get himself a cup of tea and a sandwich, and when he returned it was to the infuriating realisation that Vince hadn't noticed he was gone. 

It shouldn't bother him, but it does. 

Vince finally, after what Howard is pretty sure constitutes days of chatting, _finally_ stands to his full height and turns his sparkling blue eyes on him. "Aren't they adorable Howard!" He squeaks. 

Howard's initial thought is, _I'll show you adorable._ Followed by the action of him putting one foot in front of the other and backing Vince up until they'd tumbled into some nearby shrubbery. Howard had kissed him breathless. Knocked his ridiculous cowboy hat off his head with how his hands sink into his hair. Vince doesn't seem to mind at all, he spends the whole time giggling, Howard swallowing the sweet tasting sound with desperate pecks and needy kisses. 

Afterwards, Vince had asked who walked by, assuming it was part of the act, and Howard had stuttered, flushed red, and not answered him. 

No one had walked past. Howard had just wanted to be half as appreciated as some spikey jellybeans had been. 

Though, that really didn't hold a candle to the Lion situation. Howard still blushes to think about it. It had been a further three days after the hoglets, and overall, Howard was not having a good day. Bainbridge was back at the zoo for a fleeting visit before he went on his next adventure _to the moon._ The aura he brings with him hangs around Howard all day like a bad smell; pressing him into the floor. He feels on edge and panicky. He's defensive. Generally, furious with the world and all it's inhabitants. To top it all off, Fossil was on his back about some bitch-work that required him to climb an oak tree, _and_ he'd lost that morning's porpoise race (twice, somehow, even though they'd only done it once). 

Vince had been nowhere to be found.  And Howard had been looking intensely. For once he was not too uptight to admit that he was rather in need of a little sunshine, the kind only Vince could provide. But no matter where he had tried, the little man was conspicuously absent and it was driving Howard from annoyed firmly into _upset._

It was late afternoon when Vince finally renters Howard life--and it's entirely an accident. 

Howard's actually on his way to refill the capybara's watering hole (a job he normally delegates to Vince, since the large rodents are much more fond of the younger keeper) with a bucket of water in hand, when he happens to stroll past the lion enclosure. 

And there's Vince. 

He's curled, with his head tucked cosily in the sleeping Lion's mane; the large cat spread out and relaxing in the sun. In most circumstances, many might find it a rather adorable sight. Vince was a little person anyway, built like a rake and without his heels he was tiny--but next to the intimidating body of a big cat, he looked positively miniscule. His face was relaxed in sleep, features caught by the afternoon light and glowing with his contentment. 

It makes Howard furious. 

With no preamble, he finds himself tossing the water he is carrying through the metal bars of the enclosure and soaking the pair of them. Vince shoots awake with a girlish scream and the lion roars out it's indignation so viciously that Howard takes four steps back. The bars in this place were hardly up to scratch and he just _pissed of a lion holy hell what was he doing._

Its a second. The briefest of moments. Vince finishes calming the lion, muttering pleas and apologies on Howard's behalf and then Vince looks over to him. They make eye contact. Vince is confused, he's obviously annoyed, but he's lost too. He didn't understand what had just happened. 

Honestly, neither did Howard. 

Which, naturally, is why he runs. Vince barely gets out "How--" and he has turned on his heel and stormed back towards the keepers hut. Whatever it was that possessed him to drench his best friend and current husband, it's still in his veins. Poisoning his thoughts. Howard is still furious when Vince comes crashing into the hut behind him. 

“What was that for!” The younger man screeches, his own fury is only narrowly edged out by his worry. Even he seems to realise this behaviour is not normal. Howard complains but he rarely acts. He isn't malicious at least, he never used to be. “Howard?” 

“I’ve been looking for you all day and you’re off sleeping with lions--” Howard yells, actually yells. 

Vince's features darken. "You've gone wrong." He snaps.  “It was a five minute sleepy, Howard, you’re getting pissy over nothing!” 

"Five minutes?" Howard is squaring his shoulders. Planting his feet. "I haven't seen you all bloody day, you've been off tramping about with the animals probably, leaving me to get on with all the actual work." 

"Oh, piss off." Vince steps into his space. He's shorter than Howard but by far more intimidating. "Don't be getting bitchy over rubbish, if something's _actually_ bothering you just say it." 

Howard frowns hard at him, mostly because while he knows what his problem is, saying it out loud probably won't go down well at all. Instead, right as Vince snips, _“What’s your problem?”_ he steps into the younger man's space and slides a hand into his hair, drags the man to his chest and kisses his frustration away. It’s teeth and tongue and Howard uses his height to his advantage. 

Vince didn't care; he had given as good as he got, fisting both hands in Howard's khaki work shirt and dragging their bodies ever closer. Howard had backed Vince against the nearest wall and there they had remained until the white-hot sting of his annoyance faded away. 

Frankly, he’d prefer doing that than thinking about what his problem actually was. That being that  Vince was tainting him into someone more impulsive and carefree than he was used to being. He was used to control and order, rules and safe fun. These days he peered over at Vince distributing seed and wanted to pull him to his side and bury his face into his hair. He found himself irrationally wound up when other people (other animals) held Vince's attention longer than he deemed necessary. Howard's who MO in life thus far had been think before you act. Look before you leap. Problem being recently, when Vince entered a room Howard's thoughts turned off and he leapt. 

Sometimes, he sat beside Vince on the worn leather sofa at night and wanted to pull him into his lap and kiss him just because that was something he _could_ do… And often he did.

It’s how they find themselves tonight night actually, exactly two weeks since deciding on their marriage plot. They’d been bickering over something stupid, not arguing like they had about the lion, but instead a fond back and forth about whose fault the escaped lemurs was today. Vince getting petty and pouting, Howard had warned him to put it away and Vince had pouted harder. For some reason, the answer that had popped into his head was, _I know how to pull that look off his face_ , and Howard had kissed him. 

It was unlike any of the kisses they’d shared before, It wasn’t shy or anxious it was simply them battling it out with their mouths. They’d chuckled and giggled and toppled onto the sofa, kissed until they couldn’t breathe, Howards hands settling on Vince’s face, his hips, in his hair; Vince pulling at him as well. 

They’d relaxed, Vince drawing away with adorably flushed cheeks, and they’d just lain together. Vince fiddling with Howard's larger hands, spinning the ring on his finger idly as they settle into comfortable silence together. 

Howard can’t stop the words.. They just fall out of him. “I think maybe we should stop this soon.” 


	5. Five

Vince is dying. 

There's no need to consider if that's what's happening; he is certain of it. This is what death feels like--it's how Howard had described it to him late one night after they had gotten back from Monkey Hell. Everything just _stops._ The birds aren't singing anymore. Everything's cold. Vince isn't entirely certain he's still breathing. His entire existence has narrowed down to Howard's guilty expression and Howard _isn't even looking at him._

The coward made a declaration like that, and had immediately diverted his eyes to the far wall. 

It isn't even as if Vince had expected this to go on forever. He was a bit ditsy, but he wasn't completely moronic. When this idea had come to him he had known he was setting himself up for heartbreak because Howard 'perfectly heterosexual' Moon could never love him the way Vince wanted to be loved. Even if he had been doing a pretty remarkable job of making it seem that way for the past two weeks. 

Howard wanted normal. He wanted the pretty wife, 2.5 children, and semi-detached regularity. 

Vince just wanted Howard. 

So it wasn't like he is completely caught off guard by the idea that Howard might want to call it quits. After all, the plan had served it's purpose. They had successfully got Gideon back into her job and Fossil was none the wiser. Rather, what did take him by surprise was the timing. Why Howard had decided the perfect time to initiate their breakup was after spending half an hour pressed together on the sofa sharing each other's saliva he had no idea. 

The only thing he can be entirely certain of right now is how reality is collapsing around his ears. 

“Oh,” Is all Vince can find it in himself to say. Though he does start pulling himself away from the embrace they are _still_ entangled in. “You think?”  He tries to pretend his voice isn’t cracking. Like he isn’t about to burst into tears. He wants to know why Howard suddenly thinks they need to get divorced but it's a little bit like willing stepping into traffic. It's going to hurt--potentially kill you. 

Howard looks like he doesn’t even know why he thinks it needs to end. 

“Yes I… I think if we go on much longer it’ll…” _Coward._ The older man trails off on his reasoning, just sort of, shrugs into the space and hopes that will be answer enough. 

Vince wants to demand a more concise answer. He wants it in bullet points. For all he cares, Howard can write him a whole dissertation as long as it _actually answers the fucking question._ Vince wants to defend himself, to ask why they need to stop when they’re comfortable and happy and it’s not like Howard has other potential partners lining up so why should it matter? 

He says none of that. 

What he does say is, “Right. Well… I’ll let you sort that out then.” And then he’s disengaging from Howard’s warm embrace. “I’m going to shower.” 

Shower was a pretty good euphemism for cry, if you asked him.

♡♡♡♡

Unsurprisingly, after dropping that bombshell on him, Howard doesn’t try to kiss him goodnight as had become habit for them. Instead they retire to bed silently, Vince makes sure he is as far away from Howard as he can get so he doesn’t end up cuddling him in the night. The past few days he had been waking up like that, drawn to Howards warmth in the twilight hours. 

And even laying there, Vince doesn’t sleep. Perhaps the worst part is, Howard does. If they had both been kept awake by this turn of events then Vince could have convinced himself that they were both as distressed by it. Maybe he could have started a conversation, but nope. Howard sleeps like a baby. 

So clearly this was only bothering him. 

Morning comes, and Howard does not kiss him good morning. There’s little to no conversation at all actually. Howard disappears to shower, and Vince nibbles half heartedly at the toast the older man made him. In the end though, he really can’t stomach much of it. Everything tastes like ash in his mouth and the thought of what's going to happen--maybe today? Tomorrow?--makes anything he has swallowed down want to reappear once more. 

When Howard ambles back into the room, dressed in his uniform, he seems awkward and stiff. Vince sees it coming before the words manifest. 

It’s the same as watching an action sequence unfold in slow motion. It’s watching a vase tumble from a high shelf and knowing you will never be able to catch it in time. It’s closing your eyes, not checking if the bungee rope is attached and throwing yourself over the cliff edge anyway. 

“I think we should do it at the weekend.” 

And Vince _hates_ that he says we. As if they have reached this decision together. Which, in some way he supposes this unspoken loophole had always been present in this contract. Vince had just hoped Howard would never mention it. But this was not a we decision. We decisions involved discussions, debates. If this was a we decision Howard would have asked his opinion and they could have talked about it--Vince could have silenced him with his lips and kept him from uttering those toxic words ever again. 

_ We _ _aren't going to do a fucking thing,_ Vince thinks venomously. 

A second thought forms, Howard opens his mouth but this time Vince sees it coming. He jumps in. “I’m not doing it.” And the intensity with which he snaps it makes Howard flinch. It only makes Vince a little bit smug. “I’m not going to be the one to end this, you don’t get to be the victim, ‘oward, we only did this cause of _you_.” 

The man looks at his feet, Vince feels about as wound up as he had been in the face of Mr Gideon and if he doesn’t get out of this hut he’s going to do a lot worse than snap at Howard. 

“If you want this finished, be a man and finish it.” Vince drops his plate on the counter with such force it cracks. And with that dramatic declaration, he exits the hut. 

♡♡♡♡

Unsurprisingly, Vince has no desire to be around Howard unless he absolutely has to for the following few days. They spend half of the week avoiding each other. There’s no morning kisses, no more giggling together side by side as they eat lunch. Vince only creeps back into the keepers hut long after Howard will have fallen asleep. Spends his days hiding with the animals not Howard. 

And he hates it. 

It’s late Thursday afternoon when Gideon seeks him out. She approaches like one might approach a startled animal, hands outstretched and on creeping tip toes. She settles at Vince’s side and even the presence of a person next to him almost topples him over the edge into tears--because it’s the first time he’s had anyone this close to him in days and it’s at once too much. 

She must sense his sadness instantly. “Vince? You don’t seem yourself lately.” 

“Tha’s cause I’m not.” Vince grumbles harshly, which he knows is unfair. Gideon hasn’t played any part in this, not a substantial one anyway. Even the initial threat to Howard's job had not been her fault--again, had Howard not been such a creep then would they be in any of this mess? Vince just kept finding more and more ways to be irritated with him. 

“Do you need me to get your husband?” 

Without meaning to, Vince barks a bitter laugh. “No thanks,” And he does feel bad at her confused expression. It's clear that no matter how misguided her attempts are, she is genuinely just trying to help. He heaves a sigh. “He’s the problem. We’re sorting of… fighting at the moment.” 

At this, Gideon's expression changes. It's a painful cocktail of understanding, but lol-level amusement. As if hey were squabbling kids on a playground. She moves a little closer to him on the bench and pats his knee comfortingly. Gideon has always given off such a strong motherly aura, it’s perhaps why Vince has always been so fond of her. Despite her distant personality she's also strong, and incredibly compassionate. She’s a comforting presence without even trying to be. 

“I wouldn’t let that upset you, Vince. People in love fight all the time." Gideon lays out her words firmly, presenting them as fact, not comfort. "That’s how we know that they care.” 

“It doesn’t feel like he cares all that much.” S he nods in understanding, and when he sniffles, she reaches up to cup his chin, raising his head from where it had dropped to his chest in a pathetic attempt to disguise his upset. “Feels like he doesn’t even love me, to be honest.” 

“Now we know this isn’t true don’t we.” She wipes away his tears delicately. “Chin up, darling. Not many people will look at their partners the way your love looks at you.” 

It really takes everything in his power to not argue against that. Because he’s fairly sure what she’s seeing on Howard’s face is gratitude for saving his arse, not necessarily true love. 

“Do you know what I do when my husband forgets how much he loves me?” Gideon asks, and it does make Vince chuckle wetly, the confidence with which she asserts that fact. This appears to have been her goal; she grins at him smugly. In many ways, she reminds Vince of Howard. Maybe in another life, they would have made a powerful couple. “I remind him how lonely he is without me around.” 

And he never pegged Mrs Gideon as the petty type, but Vince certainly was. “Yeah?” 

“Yes. I go and see my sister for a few days.” She says, her sweet smile contradicting the sass of her words. “In Europe.” 

This sets Vince cackling. She chucks him under the chin. “Feel better?” 

“Yeah, cheers Mrs Gideon.” 

“It’s okay, Vince.” She rises to her feet, brushes stray fur from her lap. “Husbands are hopeless sometimes, that’s why they marry us, to keep them in line.” 

Then she’s gone. 

He thinks about that for the rest of the day. 

♡♡♡♡

The day comes. Howard had not been any more specific than stating 'the weekend' but somehow, as Saturday dawns, Vince knows it's today. 

There's something in the air as he starts his day. It's summer but there are thick grey clouds in the sky. There's a metallic taste to the atmosphere; no matter what he does to remind himself that he doesn't know _for sure_ , alarm bells continue to thrum in Vince's head. His chest is hollow; has air always felt this difficult to breath? 

Howard is going to break up with him today.

And there's nothing he can do to stop it.

Vince had not even slept in the keepers hut the night previous. Had instead begged and whined until Naboo let him sleep in the kiosk. He had decided to take some of Gideon's advice to heart--remember how upset Howard had been on the 'lion day'--and to show him that they simply didn't function when they were apart. Distantly, in his mind, there was the terrified thought that, maybe it was only Vince who did not function without Howard, but he chooses to ignore that pathetic voice and keep up with this plan.

Today, for as long as he was able, he was going to avoid Howard. 

He can't dump Vince if he can't find him. 

It does mean that Vince spends his day trying to be much cleverer than he actually is. Because the thing about Howard, despite being fabricated from awkward and a little bit of a coward when it came to conflict, he was in fact an incredibly intelligent man. Howard knows how the world works. To some extent, he knows how people work. He picks up on patterns and sequences, even ones made by other people. Howard biggest obstacle was that he didn't know how to translate this information into social skills. 

But the long and short of it was, if there was one thing on this earth Howard Moon understood scarily well, it was Vince Noir. 

So Vince has to plot every point of his day like it's a military operation to avoid being caught out by his own unpredictable predictability.

And it works, to an extent. The first thing he does is clean out the primates, because that would normally be the _last_ thing he'd do. Then of course, he moves on to doing the first thing he would do, seed distribution. It's a complete mess of his normal schedule, but he convinces himself is he messes it up enough, puts the ball in the cup and moves them about with enough randomness, then Howard won't be able to find the ball. To be clear, he is the ball. 

Though, he's not sure what this avoidance tactic is really going to do for him in the long run, did he think maybe with enough time Howard would call off the whole idea and they'd stay married forever? Who knew. All Vince knew for certain was that it is lunch time and he has successfully avoided seeing Howard _at all._ He's confident he can keep this up for the rest of the day. 

He’s wrong. At lunch, Vince forgoes eating at all. He instead, decides the thing Howard would least expect him to do would be to keep working. Vince loved his job but he wasn’t exactly a worker bee. He thrived on his breaks, and surely, Howard would be so busy thinking that Vince would be in one of his favourite lunch spots that he would certainly never find him. 

Instead he goes to complete one of his least favourite tasks. Except,  when he arrives at the reptile room, Howard is there waiting for him. 

He stops in the doorway, breath caught in his chest. His heart is hammering, the need to sob is climbing in his throat, its turning his blood to ice. He was wrong about that night on the sofa; _this_ is what dying feels like. And Howard knows. He looks, so. _so_ sorry, and Vince wants to demand why, if neither of them _have_ to do this, why are they doing it. But he doesn’t. 

"How did you know I'd..." Vince doesn't actually care how Howard knew where he'd be. Howard doesn't tell him either, just raises one singular brow in such a fucking pompous way that Vince wants to slap it off his face. 

_ You're predictable, little man. _ Is what that expression says. The laugh Vince response with is as hollow as a casket and just as depressing as one. 

Howard raises his hand, an offer. "Come and eat lunch with me?" 

Stupid little Vince, never been able to say no to Howard. Not when he asked for fashion advice. Not when he asked how to talk to women. Not when the man was intending to lead him to the slaughter, either. No matter what the question, Vince would have nod his head. He does. Vince's smaller hand is placed into Howard's for the last time, and the older keeper leads them from the Reptile room and to their usual lunch spot. 

He’s going to do it somewhere public. He’s going to make it a show. 

And Vince can do nothing but switch himself off to it. 

Maybe it won't hurt as much if he doesn't let himself feel it. 


	6. Six

Breaking up with Vince is hands down one of the most painful experiences of Howard’s life. 

Not even because of Vince’s overly-emotional reaction, but more, because of the lack thereof. Vince’s emotions were complicated, to many he may seem like he’s pretty empty headed. He’s sunshine and nothing else, but that’s just because he chose to be. Whether he viewed it as such or not, this boy has had experiences unpleasant in his past and the best way he knows how to protect himself from sadness, betrayal, disappointment, is to just not feel them. He shuts out anything that isn’t joy and gets by pretending he is in fact just permanently happy. 

Except where Howard is concerned. Howard has seen Vince cry, both because of his idols career choices, and over the real things. Howard has seen Vince vicious and mean, backed into a corner like a startled animal and unhinged in his need to preserve himself. He’s seen Vince jealous. He’s seen him scared. There isn’t a part of Vince that Howard hasn’t witnessed… so when he sits them down on the bench in the courtyard to initiate this breakup--and Vince is empty behind the eyes? 

Howard knows he is being shut out. 

And he can’t even blame him. 

There’s no yelling. No tears. Howard tries to provide reasoning that won’t muddy Vince’s character or his own, explains that they simply aren’t the same people they were when they got married--ironically true, Howard doesn’t recognise himself these days--and Vince receives this with a nod. 

There’s nothing else to be said either. They sit, in silence, before Vince asks if he may be excused. It's formal and wrong, but Howard agrees anyway rather than try to encourage the younger man to open up. 

As Vince scampers away, Howard finds himself looking up to meet the eyes of Mrs Gideon... And she's well within her rights to look at him as if he was a monster. 

He feels like one. 

♡♡♡♡

Vince moves out of the keepers hut. 

To his credit, the younger man is startlingly honest about this development. After the car crash of their break-up, Howard almost paces a hole in the floor because Vince is AWOL for  _ hours.  _

All sorts of terrible ideas cross his mind. That the man might have tried to climb wolf mountain on his own, he likes to go there when he's upset. Or perhaps he was off sobbing into the arms of Naboo and cursing Howard's very existence, it wouldn't be the first time Vince has sought out the little shaman for advice. He even briefly considers that Vince might have left the zoo altogether and wonders exactly how he’d track him down--because of course Howard would go after him if he had to. 

The little man appears mid plotting, arms wrapped around himself in a protective manner. His cheeks are pink but not tear stained, he’s dead behind the eyes still. Shut off. Protecting himself. 

“I’m going to move into Naboo’s for a while.” He says bluntly, and Howard barely gets his mouth open before Vince is cutting in. “Jus’ until we can get back to normal a bit, yeah? I just need to break those habits. Wouldn’t wanna accidentally cuddle you or… you know.” He tries to laugh a out it, weak humour, Howard finds he must laugh too but they both know they’re faking it.

Howard’s never witnessed Vince pack so quickly either. It’s like in a breath he has gathered his clothes and then he is gone. Ventured into the night and not looking back. 

Just for a while he says. Howard chooses, for once, to be an optimist. 

♡♡♡♡

A week passes. 

Then two. 

Howard can’t remember the last time he actually spoke to Vince.

He still sees him about the zoo. It seems less like Vince works here these days and more like he is a visitor with the privilege of the uniform, because Howard never sees him doing any tasks. He's always just, staring into the cages mindlessly. The animal chirp, call, bark, but Vince also doesn't appear to be listening to them. 

Sometimes, Howard considers approaching and trying to wrangle some sort of reaction from him. To demand that Vince stop treating himself like Pandora's box of emotion; sealing himself shut. Because the thing about that box is, it might be filled with a whole host of bad things--evil, sadness, pain--there was also hope in there too. Vince was never going to heal if he didn't let himself process anything, Howard was never going to get him back. 

Realistically, Howard knows that the reason Vince can't process is because he hasn't got his support network in place. See: Howard. But watching Vince float about the zoo like an apparition from another, more depressing, reality, only convinced Howard that he was better off keeping his distance. After all, how could he really help? He had done this in the first place. 

But the fact of the matter is, Howard misses Vince to an almost unbearable level, and he's beginning to think that he's no chance of ever getting him back. 

He's pondering this rather distressing state of events when someone slides into the empty space beside him on his bench. 

For a brief second, he convinces himself it's Vince, until he turns and comes face to face with Mrs Gideon. She's frowning at him, not with anger, or even her usual confusion when she tries to remember his name, but instead with a kind of pity. 

Howard has spent a long time trying to catch this particular individual's attention, and now that he has it, he finds it's not at all what he wants. "Can I help you, Mrs Gideon?" He asks, not snappish, just tired. "I've got quite a bit on." 

"Feeling sorry for yourself isn't a valuable pastime." She replies. "There are plenty of other things you could be doing with your time." 

"Like?" 

"Speaking to your poor estranged husband." 

Okay, she's got him there. He could in fact be doing that, and he wants to... but the problem is, and always had been, that Howard is something of a coward. And occasionally, a bit of a hypocrite too. He had no problem sitting here, lamenting that Vince needed to open up about what he was thinking and feeling but it wasn't as if Howard was rushing to do the same. 

"I don't think he wants to talk to me," Howard says, and it sounds a lot more calm than he is internally. Detached and cool. "And forcing him into conversation isn't going to do anything but upset him." 

Gideon considers him; Howard shifts uncomfortably under her gaze. If nothing else this was a good exercise in understanding why he would never have made a good partner to this woman. If Howard considers himself a man of action then Gideon, by definition, was a woman of engagement. "Howard do you realise that there is no such thing as easy love." 

"Why do you remember my name now?" He demands instead of face up to what she's insinuating. "I've worked here for nearly seven years and you've not once remembered my name. All it takes is for me to apparently be gay and it's worth knowing now?" 

"I don't make a habit of knowing people who don't know themselves yet." Is her curt response, Howard looses all his steam with that one statement. "Besides, for once, we aren't talking about you. I asked you a question." 

"Yes." Howard replies instantly, this whole chat went from mildly annoying to a little bit terrifying. Its reminiscent of being called to the headmasters office. "Yes, I know love isn't easy but--Mrs Gideon you should know Vince and I aren't in love. We were never married." 

"Maybe you weren't married," For whatever reason, this information doesn't phase her in the slightest. "But you are definitely in love, darling." 

"Wha--" 

"Like I said. I don't make a habit of knowing people who do not know themselves." Since when has she been cryptic? Was this Howard's punishment for never really getting to know her before falling head over heels for what he had pictured her to be? It was like the universe was laughing at him. Making a point to flaunt her character in his face, just to prove a point. 

The point that, Mrs Gideon is definitely not Howard's type. 

But he might know who is. 

"There you go." She says at the exact moment Howard experiences what most people might call a 'lightbulb'. "Go and talk to him, Howard. You're running out of time to fix it." 

And with that, she rises from her seat and struts off back towards the Reptile House. 

Howard's in love with Vince. 

♡♡♡♡

Getting Vince back is the epitome of his priorities after his conversation with Gideon. Because for once in his pathetic life Howard wants to be the man he always claims he is. He wants to inspire romance. He wants to win Vince's heart. To make a gesture. 

Because _Bryan Christ_ , he was in love with Vince. 

It's not even one of those revelations that knocks him off his feet or leaves him feeling upside down and inside out. It's more, a gentle realisation. Like when an equation that had been bugging you finally get's solved. It's the relief of wondering where you left your keys only to find them hidden under a book. It's the vague niggling sensation of an appointment you almost forgot. 

If Howard had to describe the feeling of coming to realise his adoration for Vince, almost fifteen years in the making, it would be a comfortable ' _Oh, that makes sense.'_

And he'd needed no further time to come to any more conclusions. 

The first thing he does is try and seek out the younger keeper. Which, given that it is nearly lunch time he thinks he knows exactly where to go. Vince has a few favourite spots in the zoo to eat; by the monkey pit, at the base of wolf mountain, sometimes with Naboo if the little shaman had cooked. But when Howard finds him in none of these places, he thinks maybe Vince isn't making a habit of frequenting his own favourite places these days. And he heads for the bench by the Rainbow Lorikeets. 

Vince is there. Cross legged on the bench, staring at the multi-coloured birds with an empty gaze. 

"You've taken my spot." Howard says carefully, and good thing too, Vince leaps a mile at the sound of his voice. His eyes, wide and startled, turn on Howard. "This is where I come to feel sorry for myself. We can't both use it for that, there'll be too much sadness everywhere." 

Remarkably, Vince replies without a thought. "Well I couldn't get all my spots smeared in sad, could I?" 

That's all it would have taken. Two weeks, and Howard could have just appeared at Vince's side and made a half-hearted joke. He suddenly feels like a prized tit. 

"Can I sit?" 

Vince nods his head and Howard waste's no time slotting into the space he has always belonged. At Vince's side. They don't say anything more for a long while. Not unusual, after everything they have gone through there's got to be certain allowances for silence. They sit together watching the birds flit from side to side, chirping excitedly. 

"Are they saying anything interesting?" Howard asks after a while. 

"No." Vince manages a small smile. "They never do, though, always just desperate for attention." 

"Reminds me of you." It's incredibly brave of him, to start trying to tease Vince at this juncture. Thankfully, Vince seems only relieved by this sense of normalcy. Manages a weak smirk in reply. "That's why I like sitting here, I think. Because they're very like you." 

"Attention seekers?" 

"And colourful," Howard adds. "Excitable, and... and they partner up for life." 

It's no longer humour in the air. Vince whips his head to him, wide-eyed, panicked, utterly terrified of what Howard is implying. "Howard--" 

"I think you've been partnered up for ages and I've been a bit dense, haven't I?" No one will ever again be able to say Howard wasn't a man of action. Look at him, here, taking all these positive steps and being honest for once. "Should have realised, you've been following me around since you were eight. Took Mrs Gideon giving me a good telling off before I even noticed what had happened." 

Vince is just blinking at him. 

"You're going to make me say it aren't you?" Howard sighs at him, casts his eyes to the sky as if praying for strength, and then he tries his best to make defiant eye contact. "I think I might be in love with you, and it took a fake marriage and a divorce for me to realise that. So here I am, apologising, begging you to move back into the keeper hut with me. Maybe we can have lunch again? I'm not sure what else I can offer you. I mean, we have the rings, if you want we can--" 

"Don't you fucking dare propose to me right now." 

Howard is startled into a laugh how put-out Vince sounds about this development. "What, why? I'm being romantic." 

"That's not romantic, Howard, that's insanity." Though, thankfully, as he says it, Vince is smiling with soft affection. "Jesus, it's all or nothing with you isn't it?" 

"I'm growing rather bored of 'nothing' is all." Howard admits. 

Vince chews on his lip for a long moment, eyes flitting all over Howard's features in thought. "Why did it have to stop last time, then?" He asks, boldly. "If you reckon you're in love with me, why mess it all up and now come crawling back. Why should I trust you." 

It's a good question, doesn't mean Howard had an answer ready for it. He takes a moment, relives the past few weeks. His own perceived personality changes. His need to be near Vince at all times. How lonely and dull he'd felt without the man there. Gideon's stern words. What he settles on is; "I have spent a long time telling myself I know exactly who I am. Being married to you ruined my perception of that image a little bit." He tries to play it off, but his voice is thick as he explains. "Quite stupidly, I thought ending it would take me back to being who I am _supposed_ to be. It didn't though. Just pushed me further in the opposite direction." 

Vince is frowning rather heavily at him. "I don't understand then, if you were changing and you didn't like it why are we--" 

"Because I wasn't changing, not really. I just wasn't holding myself to stupid standards anymore. I don't think, to be honest, I'm still wrapping my head around all of it." He clears his throat, embarrassed and vulnerable. "I've always been comfortable with you Vince. That didn't change, just the way I was expressing my comfort did." 

Meaning, Howard has always held himself in high regard. Always cared what people think about him and tried to act accordingly--except where Vince is concerned. Vince didn't care if he got wound up over silly things. Or jealous over animals. Vince didn't need him to be the smartest in the room or the most controlled. Vince just needed Howard. Plain and simple, and at the time, it had been a little terrifying. 

Now the only thing that scared him more than being that open with someone was the thought of not having Vince around anymore. 

Thankfully, it seems like Vince understands. "We're still not getting married, you utter freak." He snaps, with as much affection as is possible.

Howard breathes a sigh of relief, and Vince peers up at him from under his fringe. Carefully, Howard keeps going on this path of bravery, he reaches out to take one of Vince's smaller hands in his own. Notices that, much like Howard, Vince had not bothered to remove his wedding ring during their brief separation. "Okay, so we won't get married." He promises with a smile. "But... do you think you can maybe handle lunch with me again? Or, or coming home, at least?" 

Vince cocks his head to the side, considering, and then, with his cheekiest smile he says, "I'll think about it." 

It's all Howard could ask for. 


	7. Epilogue

♡♡♡♡

By the end of that week, Vince was back where he belonged--meaning, taking up all of Howard's personal space--and Howard wouldn't have it any other way. 

They still aren't married by the end of that month; but Vince has taken to allowing Howard to hug him, to hold his hand when they walk around the zoo. And since he was trying to be better about being open as well, Vince whispers his first 'I love you' under the light of the full moon while they complete a night watch. 

After six months, Howard and Vince still bicker like children, but they often resolve their differences with hands and mouths, not insults and silent treatments. Howard wants them to get a real flat, Vince complains he will miss the zoo too much. Naboo sometimes drops into conversation that he's officiated to conduct human weddings. Howard by now knows that a sure fire way to get Vince to blush is to spring compliments on him; will call him beautiful the second he wakes up just to see the sleep soft man turn pink. In turn, Vince knows nothing makes Howard feel as loved as when the younger man will ask Howard to be held. 

By their nine months, the Zoo closes. Vince cries himself sick at the thought of having to leave the zoo and Howard cries with him. Honestly, he won't miss the zoo nor their employment there, but he happens to be a pretty empathetic man and the sight of his partner so upset will always get to him. Vince and Howard move to the flat in Dalston, and Vince sees through Howard's claims of being fine with the change. Notices that for the first few days the older man can't sleep--the ambient noise is all different here--and starts telling him stories at night to help him sleep. It effects them both more than they'd like to admit, but they get by. 

At one year, Vince takes Howard to Reagents park. Vince does not argue with a swan, thought Howard does have a run in with some squirrels. They do sit in the sun, and Howard fashions a daisy-chain for Vince to wear in his hair. They stroll through the botanical gardens and sit on the lip of the fountain. Vince proposes. 

One year and two weeks after their chat on the bench, Howard and Vince get married. Neither of them want a long engagement. They don't even want a big wedding. Naboo officiates, Bollo is their witness. 

As far as they are both concerned, it's the Fairy Tale ending they deserve. 

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title from The Vamps - Married in Vegas
> 
> As ever I can be found on Tumblr:  
> @queen-boo / @anciientboosh


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